Of Swords and Warlords
by Jae's Stories
Summary: Merlin, Arthur and the Knights are kidnapped by an aging warlord, but what's his end goal and why does he only seem interested in questioning Merlin? Rated T for violence (Merlin!whump) and language. Magic reveal. Complete.
1. Of Servants and Guards

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **I'm back to hurt Merlin some more. He seems to be my metaphorical (and yes, physical) punching bag right now (sorry not sorry)**

 **It's been a couple of weeks since my last post, I have a terrible problem of starting stories then getting bored of them and just abandoning them, and I really, really don't want to be one of those people who post half a story and people are left waiting years for the ending. So I make sure my stories are finished or nearly finished before posting them, so I'll probably have month-long gaps followed by lots of updates.**

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"You want _my servant_?" Arthur gaped. "You have knights, you have the bloody King of Camelot, and you want that idiot over there?"

Had there not been three inch steel bars separating him and the sneering guard, Arthur would've delivered a swift blow to the hairy buffoon's ugly face, knocking him out. Had there also not been three inch steel bars, four feet of cold, grey stone corridor, and yet three more inches of metal between him and his oddly quiet manservant, Arthur would've stood protectively in front of Merlin, shielding him from whatever the hell these people wanted with him.

It had only been a patrol, a patrol like any other. Arthur had been grateful to get out of the stuffy atmosphere of the castle and away from his life that nowadays seemed to be filled with endless council meetings with lords older than the brickwork and enough paperwork to fill a library. Gwaine had recounted his latest conquest, a barmaid aptly named Chastity, and the King had attempted to tune him out, briefly catching the occasional titbit such as ' _and you wouldn't believe what she could do with a jug of mead_ '. Merlin had whined he was cold, Merlin had whined he was tired, Merlin whined about having to come out on patrol, as per usual, and Merlin had had one of his usual 'funny feelings'.

That was moments before they found themselves surrounded by more men than they could count, well maybe more than Gwaine could count. Although it was very likely that the drunk would be seeing double (which would make up for his lack of numerical skills).

Arthur was so angry with himself, if he'd listened to Merlin, if he'd fought a little harder, if he'd taken more men, if he'd left his bumbling servant at home like every other noble did…

"Arthur it's OK. I'll be fine." Merlin smiled at Arthur, the grin not quite reaching his eyes in its usual manner. Arthur simply ignored him. It didn't make any sense why whoever was holding them wanted a servant, and not someone with detailed knowledge of the inner workings of Camelot. Sometimes he thought that Merlin didn't know his arse from his elbow. _'He's someone who has had no resistance training to torture'_ a small voice mused which Arthur quickly silenced.

He didn't know who these people were, but the fact that they were now in what seemed like quite an intricate little prison wasn't a good sign. They had swerved down thousands of interconnecting halls like a giant maze as the guards led them to their tiny cells. Three on each side, Arthur had been thrust into the middle cell, adjacent to Leon and Elyan; Merlin, Percival and Gwaine mirroring them across the corridor.

"Honestly, you wouldn't want him." Arthur continued, ignoring Merlin's quiet protests. "He's a useless manservant, he's usually late, ridiculously clumsy, spends most of his nights down the tavern…" Arthur trailed off when he realised the oaf wasn't listening to him, but flicking through several old, worn keys hanging on a rusty hoop.

"Shut it, if you know what's good for you. Don't care if you're the King." The guard, who until now had been silent holding a flaming torch, glared at Arthur, something unsettling deep within his gaze when he spoke. "My lord wishes only to speak with the boy." He grinned, his rotten teeth illuminated by the flame. It was unlike any smile he had seen before. A thousand times Arthur had seen Merlin smile, a smile so pure, so full of joy and happiness it made his heart warm looking at it. This smile was unlike Merlin's. It was cold, disturbing, and seemed to suck all joy from the world.

"Let's go, pretty face." The guard with the keys tugged on Merlin's arm, forcing him out of the cell and in to the corridor, the warlock's pale skin glowing orange next to the fire. Arthur had been sure to voice his objection, as had Gwaine, both unhappy to say the least about letting the boy out of their sight and into the arms of whatever monster held them captive. Arthur, naturally, had tried to diplomatically talk Merlin out of the guards' hands and back with them where he was a hundred times safer with five pairs of eyes watching and protecting him, whilst Gwaine had begun yelling nonsensical threats at the men.

"I'll be fine." Merlin looked back at him though there was an air of fear around the boy, like he was trying to convince himself as well as the others. Arthur watched in disbelief as the trio stumbled down the uneven stone path and out of sight.

"Merlin!" Arthur called once more though he knew it to be futile. He slumped against the wall at the back of his cell – cage – defeated. "Do you think he'll be all right?" He murmured softly to no one.

"He'll be alright. He's Merlin." Came the even softer reply of Percival, absentmindedly playing with his hands, a small smile threatening to appear on his lips. The knight didn't know how wrong he'd be.

Arthur said nothing, as did everyone else, all lost in thought. He shut his eyes, praying for sleep but none would come, not with the whirlwind of worry storming in the pit of his stomach. There was no telling how long it had been, however he could determine it was still night as no light shone through the one window high above, about as large as a single brick, as footsteps approached the cells once again.

He leapt to his feet faster than ever before, clutching the bars so firmly his knuckles must be turning white. Various sounds of the others doing the same thing rang through the small cell block. There was no torchbearer this time – the guard and, hopefully, Merlin walked in the pitch black silence. He let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding in when there was a grunt and the thud of a body hitting the floor, followed by the cell door swinging shut and a pair of footsteps fading into the distance.

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 **Reviews and favourites make me happy.**


	2. Of Capture and Clichés

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Firstly I just want to say an absolutely massive thank you to you guys – the response for chapter one was overwhelming. So many of you left reviews, favourited and followed this story, and I'm so grateful to you!**

 **I've made an alteration to the bio of this story that there will be Merlin whump. Quite a lot. Sorry. And also a magic reveal.**

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"Merlin, you alright mate?" Gwaine asked hesitantly, pain etched into every word.

"Peachy." Despite the assurance the word came out as a groan. Merlin shuffled to get comfortable, letting out what sounded like grunts; as if he was trying to keep noises of pain at bay.

"What happened?" Arthur asked the dreaded question, not sure if he was up to hearing the answer.

"Tired," came the sleepy reply, "tell you in morning." Merlin grumbled, then let out another grunt followed by several moments of silence. Arthur's gut twisted in fear until he heard the unmistakable gentle snore of his manservant.

"I think we all should try to sleep." Arthur whispered and could feel everyone nodding in silent agreement. With that, he allowed himself to close his eyes, albeit in an unrestful slumber.

When morning came, Arthur didn't need to ask Merlin what had been done to him. He could see it clear as day when he awoke with a start, wishing he couldn't. What little light trickled into the tiny cell block bathed his servant in a soft yellow glow, enough to illuminate the numerous injuries coating his body. The most obvious was the large purple bruise clamping his right eye shut, which feathered out into paler bluish bags under his sleeping eyes. Cuts littered their way across his face, tiny but angry, glowing a fierce red starkly against his unnaturally pale skin. The cuts peppered his neck, disappearing under a ripped blue tunic. God knows what had happened to his torso, but it wasn't good by the look of the crimson stain adorning his stomach. Arthur was partly thankful, partly angered that the rest of his thin frame was hidden in shadow.

"Merlin!" Gwaine awoke sharply, almost screaming when he saw what he could of his best friend's body. This also caused Merlin to shoot up, wincing as he jostled the injuries he concealed, and Arthur cursed inwardly at how tactless Gwaine could be sometimes. "Are you alright?" His Irish husk sounded so guilt-ridden Arthur didn't know if Merlin would be able to given him a satisfactory answer. Although if Arthur had tried to speak, his voice would've matched the dark haired knight's – minus the Irish husk.

"I'm fine, it's just a few cut-" A low moan of pain escaped his lips contradicting the warlock.

"Now will you please tell us what happened?" Arthur cringed at how annoyed he sounded as he tried to mask his apprehension for his best friend. Whose benefit that was for, he wasn't sure. Though it probably was not the best course of action considering Gwaine was now scowling at him.

"Usual warlord stuff." Merlin shrugged, then let out another involuntary groan as every inch of him stung, ached, hurt – pick a verb and that was how Merlin felt. " _Tell me everything about your King, tell me everything about Camelot, would any of the knights every swear allegiance to me_?" Merlin's voice took on a gruffer, more mocking tone. "It's all so clichéd." Merlin chuckled, the noise sounding hoarse. "He didn't like it when he I told him of Arthur's grumpiness in the morning or his obsession with killing innocent wildlife." He smiled, though once again not quite reaching his eyes.

"He tortured you?" Arthur growled, his voice low and threatening. Merlin, trying to avert the attention away from him and defuse the situation, gave the king a mock sigh.

"Yes, sire. I do believe that is what people call it." His efforts failing miserably, Merlin reduced himself to a contemplative silence.

"Why you?" The confusion in his voice evident, Arthur stared at the floor, unable to make sense of anything anymore. "I'm the King, for God's sake, I have knowledge of every tiny detail about Camelot, why ask a servant?"

Little did Arthur know, that Merlin was not taken because he served the King, but rather because the warlord upstairs had been informed by one of his goons that Merlin had been spotted using magic. Clearly his usual tree-hiding plan had failed, and Drin (warlords never had names longer than one syllable) had tried to talk him into joining whatever pathetic cause he was on.

"He also wanted some tips on mucking out stables." Merlin tried with humour again – it fell on deaf ears. He began to grow tired of their silence. They were fine, Merlin was the one who had been tortured, not them, why were they so miserable? There was no time to dwell on this however, as the clump of footsteps echoed through the cells.

"Time for round two." The larger guard sneered, once again hauling Merlin to his feet with ease though this time it caused a painful gasp to escape the warlock's lips.

"Surprised you can count that high." Merlin coughed, groaning as the guards manhandled him towards the stairs.

"Wait!" The knights cried synonymously; Arthur and Gwaine once again the most prominent voices in the cell block.

"He's had enough, look at him – there's nothing to him!" Arthur cried. "Take me instead!"

"Can't do that, _princess_." The guard snarled, Gwaine letting out a low growl as his tease was used in such a malicious manner. "My lord's taken a liking to this one's screams it seems. Wants to hear some more." And in the blink of an eye, they were gone. Again.

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 **Oh I'm mean and I know it. It's not going to get better any time soon…**

 **Also something I forgot to mention last chapter, I'm considering doing a Merlin whump prompt series, which I realise there are many of, but I really like hurting Merlin (there's something wrong with me isn't there?) so let me know if you think this is a good idea, and PM me if you have any prompts already you want to share. I shall be sure to credit your idea when I post it.**


	3. Of Torture and Defiance

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Sorry for the late-ish update guys, I'm visiting some relatives at the moment, and like most relatives, they have rubbish WiFi. I don't know how often I'll be able to post until I'm home on Tuesday, so I just want you to know I've not abandoned you, the Wi-Fi just keeps dropping every 5 minutes before I can get a chapter uploaded and published. *Sigh*. Bear with me. Here's some quite strong Merlin whump to keep you going.**

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"I will ask you once again. Are you going to join me, _boy_?" The aging warlord snarled, scrunching his wrinkled features in Merlin's direction as he was unceremoniously dumped on the floor. The balding man, to Merlin at least, looked like a snake, his squinting eye dull and his toothy snarl poisonous.

"This again? Didn't I give you your answer enough yesterday?" Merlin sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes as if he were bantering with Arthur. The kick to his face by a large leather boot soon reminded him that he wasn't. As the copper tang filled his mouth, it was all Merlin could do not to spit on the man towering over him. His head was beginning to pound, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had something to eat or drink, his dry throat calling out for water and his head for quiet. Though he was unlikely to receive either at this point as he was pulled roughly to his feet, his hands fastened to manacles hung from the low ceiling. Magic suppressing manacles, etched with runes that made a part of Merlin want to curl up and die, it left his body feeling cold and his heart beating a little slower. He hated everything about the situation, how weak and vulnerable a position he was in, and how pathetic he actually was without his magic.

"I'll give you one more chance, _sorcerer_ , help me take over Camelot and destroy King Arthur, or the results will not be pretty, I promise you that." The man – who Merlin had discovered was called Drin, though he was not going to humanise the man with a name anytime soon – spat. He pulled a knife out of his boot, still coated in Merlin's dried blood, and turned it over in his hand, a reminiscent smirk plastered across his smug lips. The warlock visibly shuddered, memories of last night's fun and games shooting across his vision, but if he was going out, he thought it might as well be kicking and screaming.

"Make me." His voice was low and unwavering, not an ounce of fear in it, which only served to annoy Drin even further.

"Oh I will." He slashed the knife across the rags that were once Merlin's shirt, letting what was left of them fall the ground. Merlin sucked in a breath as the cold air nipped at his bare torso, but also at the sight of it. Purple and splotchy, at least one rib out of place and covered in dark red crusty cuts, Merlin didn't know if he'd ever looked so broken. "Did some damage to you yesterday, huh boy?" Drin sneered, poking a particularly angry looking wound. Merlin fought back a cry as agony shot through his stomach. The cuts would be infected soon, he was sure, if they weren't already. "Since we didn't really make any progress yesterday, apart from turning your voice hoarse, we'll do something different today, shake things up a bit.

"Instead of simply asking for your... _services_ , I'm going to get to know you a little better, and then get some of answers that I need. What's your name?" Merlin remained silent. "I do not have time for your games sorcerer. Tell me your name." Drin growled as Merlin stared defiantly at him, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a small grin. That was until Drin made a cut just above his popped-out rib. He grunted as the metal tore into his flesh, he could feel the blood trickling down his stomach which sent a wave of nausea coursing through him. "Name, now. Or I start work on those ears of yours." He held the tip of the knife dangerously close to Merlin's lobe, the boy squirming away as much as he could in his awkward, restrained position. Drin raised his eyebrows, the metal beginning to rest on the soft skin behind his ear, and Merlin screwed up his eyes tightly.

"Merlin." He croaked, admonishing himself immediately for answering anything at all.

"Merlin. I see." Drin considered this for a moment, as if he'd been expecting something a little more exciting. "Where are you from Merlin?" The warlock was not going to answer that no matter what. Any response that even had the faintest chance of hurting his mother was unacceptable.

"Camelot. The lower town." Merlin growled. He would say no more than that, which luckily Drin took as an acceptable answer.

"Must've been difficult for you. Growing up in such a hostile environment, and then working directly under the very man who'd destroy you without a moments notice." The man's pathetic attempt at sympathy still came off as cold and calculating.

"It's had its moments." Merlin attempted a shrug, which was nigh on impossible as his aching muscles protested any further movement.

"Tell me Merlin, what is King Arthur's biggest weakness?" Drin was suddenly up in Merlin's face, one arm clutching his throat, the other wrapped around his side, so the knife tip pressed sharply against his shoulder blade. He bit his lip until Drin began to push the knife further in, unable to contain his scream as it was ripped from his throat. "Tell me." Merlin looked straight into Drin's gloweringly dead eyes, groaning as the knife began to twist in his back, tearing at his flesh.

"It's…" Merlin started, gasping through the pain shooting through his shoulder.

"Yes?" Drin grinned sweetly. Merlin fought hard to keep his eyes alert and awake, the knife in his back sending a burning pain across his body as he had trouble focussing properly on the warlord.

"Arthur does have a penchant for throwing goblets at my head. I also believe he is a little touchy about his weight. Extra holes on his belt, I'm telling you." Despite the agony searing in his shoulder blade, Merlin chuckled humourlessly, even as a fist connected with his jaw. Hard.

"Is this some kind of game to you?" Drin screeched, and Merlin likened his anger to that of a dragon's at the moment, he could just see the man with smoke pouring from his nose.

"Could've brought some dice, made it a proper game." Merlin rasped. He would not give in, he'd keep pushing and pushing until he was dead or Arthur was safe and faraway from here. Preferably the latter, but Merlin never knew what he would have to do when it came to defending the King. His body was beginning to tremble, whether it was the pain or his body going into shock at how much blood he'd already lost, or a mix of the two, Merlin didn't know.

"You've a sharp tongue, I'll give you that. Serve me, overthrow Camelot, and I'll see you to an elevated position within my court." He pulled out the knife with a sickening pop, and Merlin heaved a sigh of relief as the pain subsided somewhat. Despite his gratitude at having the offending weapon removed from his body, he still managed a look of utter contempt.

"Never. I'll never whore out my magic to some oppressive tyrant."

"Isn't that what you do already? For your beloved King?" Drin sneered, causing rage to burn inside Merlin, at the mere insinuation that his protection was something inherently wrong.

"I protect my King with whatever means necessary, because he is worthy of such. I do not use my magic to save Arthur because I want power, but because I believe in our cause." The man only let out a harsh cackle.

" _Your_ cause? You think he'd stand by you if he knew what freakish magic scum you are? Shall we test that little theory?" Merlin's blood ran cold, fear stirring in his stomach. Not yet, not like this. He needed more time, though to do what Merlin didn't know, but Arthur couldn't find out like this, under such duress. "You," Drin pointed at a cluster of guards hovering by the door, "fetch the King."

"No!" Merlin seethed, struggling against his manacles. He was suddenly winded by a punch to the stomach that left him gasping for air like a fish plucked from a river. Footsteps approached, accompanied by familiar grumblings, and Merlin felt his heart both soar and sink when Arthur entered the room.

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 **And on that note... *evil laughter* I'll try updating soon but it's so difficult at the moment.**

 **(P.s should this fic have an M rating? I don't know.)**


	4. Of Saviours and Reveals

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Home! Super-fast fibre optic broadband! Half the story's getting rejigged, so this chapter was rewritten on a train (because let's be honest, what else is there to do on a five hour train?) so there may be a few errors.**

 **You guys are awesome. Seriously. I now have over 80 followers, over 40 favourites and some pretty overwhelming reviews. I appreciate so much you taking the time to read my story and give me feedback. The notifications always put a smile on my face and the reviews never fail to give me a laugh. I shall stop now before I become an emotional mess.**

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"Merlin!" Arthur could find no other words, floored by the sight of seeing his best friend bloodied, beaten and suspended from the low ceiling. He felt sick just looking at him, the extent of his torture now apparent as he gaped at Merlin's violet and crimson torso. Second to Merlin's broken form he noticed Drin, holding a knife that dripped with blood, and the small puddle that had amassed near Merlin's feet, clearly oozing from somewhere on his back.

"Arthur." Merlin breathed, a weak smiling ghosting over the boy's lips. It made Arthur catch his breath, the thought that his manservant could still smile despite the obvious pain he was in. The crushing guilt hit him all over again and in that moment the king felt nothing but intense hatred towards Drin. He sought to fight his captors and free himself, the knights and most importantly, Merlin, however he'd underestimated how many men the warlord had at his disposal, and was easily restrained. Although now the pointed tip of a large sword was thrust threateningly close to his neck.

Surprise was an understatement when Merlin felt the locks of the manacles come undone, his shaky legs giving out as he fell to ground, his knees taking the brunt of the impact on the hard stone floor. He was almost immediately pulled to his feet and physically restrained by a brute of a guard.

"Try anything, apart from our little demonstration, and I'll be sure to part your King's golden head from his body. Then I'll start slowly on those so-called knights of yours." Drin chuckled throatily towards Merlin, who was struggling to keep a lid on his now free flowing magic. This left Arthur more than a little confused, the king had been no match for the swarms of guards, what did Drin think Merlin was going to do? The boy couldn't lift a sword at the peak of health, and right now he was wheezing and pale, not exactly warrior material. "King Arthur, good of us to finally meet." Drin grinned spitefully.

"Leave him alone. He has no part in your plot." Merlin hissed, his voice rough. Arthur hoped it was from a lack of water, and not the terrifying alternative, that his servant had screamed himself hoarse.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Arthur mentally slapped himself for asking such a stupid question, he could clearly see what had been done to Merlin, as much as he wished couldn't.

"He was more than a little… _discourteous_ with me." Drin sighed with disappointment as Arthur shot a look at Merlin conveying a thousand emotions. Anger and frustration, that Merlin had goaded the lunatic, worry that his manservant was in very real danger of losing his life, and a hint of pride, that Merlin hadn't crumbled. He'd remained defiant even when tortured, and Arthur could not understand how he had landed such a brave and loyal servant. "He's got something he'd like to tell you, haven't you Merlin?" Drin incited. Merlin clenched his jaw and glared at Drin, not liking where this was going. "No? Nothing?" More silence. "We'll have to show Arthur then, won't we?" Drin signalled to the guard with the sword, who raised it as if to strike a fatal blow to the king.

"This has nothing to do with him!" His crackling voice fell on deaf ears as time began to slow around the young warlock. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't fair! He'd wanted to be the one to tell Arthur, not have it forced out of him by this nut-job. He wasn't going to kill Arthur, surely? He wouldn't just kill the king, would he? _He's not going to hurt him. He won't hurt him. He won't._ Merlin was chanting in his head, hoping to keep himself calm, but to no avail. His magic was destined to protect Arthur, it was as instinctual to save him from danger as it was for Merlin's eyes to blink. Almost subconsciously Merlin's eyes glowed a fierce gold and his hand reached out towards the threat; the guard flung to the wall and knocked unconscious by the looks of things.

"Quite the show Merlin." Drin clapped as if he was watching a parlour trick. "So, King Arthur, care to share your opinion on your faithful servant's hidden talents?"

Merlin had always been an expert at reading Arthur's body language. He knew the twitch of his eyes when he was thoroughly bored with council matters, the sadness that lingered in his face when he thought of his father, and the way his muscles relaxed when he and Merlin were out on a rare carefree outing.

However, he had no words to describe the look on his king's face as Merlin began to tremble involuntary, unwanted panic turning his veins to ice. It was more painful just to look at his face than to be tortured by the madman holding them prisoner, as hurt, betrayal, anger and _fear_ radiated from his deathly cold glare. Please, god no, Merlin hated people fearing him, it made him feel like a monster. Especially not Arthur. Surely he had to know that Merlin protected him, that he would never, ever hurt his king. Even under the _Fomorroh's_ influence, he hadn't managed to kill Arthur; his magic protecting Arthur until the warlock's last breath – even if that last breath was by order of the king.

"Still want to continue your loyalty to king?" Drin's voice slithered over his body, "Look at him, he _fears_ you Merlin, what good are you now to him? Join me and I'll see everyone fear you." Arthur didn't take his eyes off Merlin the entire exchange, as if he were about to make an attempt on his life at any moment, as ridiculous a notion that was.

Merlin had been his servant, nay friend, for years. He had had ample opportunities to kill Uther, kill Arthur, destroy Camelot and assert himself ruler as he knew all sorcerers wanted, something instilled in Arthur since his birth. Why hadn't he? God, the words Merlin and sorcerer should never be found together. How could he do this to Camelot, to his friends, to Arthur?

"I'm happy to be his servant until the day I die." Something about the response made Arthur shudder, he'd never heard Merlin speak like this before. The pretence of being Arthur's friend was not necessary anymore, he was so why Merlin was still claiming loyalty to him was anyone's guess. _Unless…_ Arthur silenced the small voice in his head very quickly.

"I thought this would change your mind. Pity. We'll just have to revert to our old methods. Shackle him." Merlin was forced into the manacles once more, his magic retreating to the recesses of his mind, leaving nothing more than a cold shell. Merlin's eyes brimmed with sadness as he tried to find the king's. The king was glaring at him, his eyes dark and hard, narrowed in the warlock's direction.

"Arthur." Merlin cried weakly. If Arthur wouldn't rescue him, then he was fated to die here. Certainly the king couldn't just abandon everything they'd been through because he had magic? "I wanted to tell you, I never found the right time." He was murmuring, still feeling heady from the wounds and the beating, and his breathing hadn't been normal for quite some time.

"Magic? All this time, magic? You idiot." The king's voice was little more than a whisper, but it was loud enough to wind Merlin more than the numerous punches he'd received.

"Sorry." Merlin's bottom lip trembled, if only for a fleeting second. Before the king could responded with another soul-crushing comment, Drin dragged his knife across a small patch of unhurt skin on Merlin's stomach. He let scarlet trickle down the boy's torso, then walked around and pressed a hand against the large wound on his shoulder that worryingly was still bleeding. Merlin screamed, screwing his eyes closed then mentally chiding himself for taking his eyes off the King. Although what pathetic magic-less Merlin could do to help he didn't know. As if he were an afterthought, Drin waved to the guards surrounding Arthur.

"Take him back." Arthur was still too stunned to move, to think, to call out to his friend when he obviously was in agony, allowing himself to be led back to the cells, trying to block out the screams echoing through the corridors.

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 **Oh Arthur. *sighs disappointedly* He never learns.**

 **Thanks for the advice on the rating. I'll probably leave it as a T as it won't go into to graphic detail of the torture.**

 **Side note: when describing Merlin's body, I learnt that there was a word to describe something violet:** _ **violaceous**_ **. But I felt like using that might be slightly too pretentious. Prompts to whoever catches me using it in the future though!**


	5. Of Rest and Tiredness

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Hey guys, sorry it's been a while. I've had a bit of writer's block and also some confusion about how I want the story to pan out. I'm now rethinking the rest of the entire plot *facepalm***

 **Anyway I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, it's short and it's really a bridge chapter.**

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Merlin was desperately trying to think of some solution to this problem, after all every problem had to have a solution, no matter how dire. However the warlock found himself too exhausted – both physically and mentally – to concentrate on forming a coherent plan in his mind. Physically, Merlin hurt everywhere, every inch of his body seemed to be experiencing a different type of pain, but mentally, he felt totally numb.

Arthur knew Merlin had magic. Arthur hated magic. Therefore of course Arthur hated Merlin. Any person with even a basic understanding of logic should know that. Stupidly he'd hoped Arthur would be accepting, he'd hoped he wouldn't turn out like his bastard of a father, but he'd been wrong. Bloody prophesy. There was no future for Albion now, his secret was out and Merlin was either going to die here, cold and alone, or on a pyre, burning and watched.

"Give in yet _Merlin_?" Drin sighed impatiently. Merlin had no idea how long he'd been up here but he didn't think he'd last much longer. Even if he wanted to answer the man – something he'd would never do, no matter how much pain he was in or how much Arthur hated him – he wasn't sure he'd have the energy to summon up even one word. The wound on his shoulder still had a slow trickle of blood flowing from it, the individual cuts and bruises were stinging and aching, sapping what little energy he had left from him, and he still couldn't breathe properly, be it through pain or the displacement of his rib.

Instead of an answer, Merlin just let out a weak breath, followed by a low groan. Alongside his injuries, there was also the fact he was chained up high and his arms were tired of support his frame, even a frame as slight as his.

"Fine, you win. You're not much fun in this state anyway." Drin rubbed at his temples, and Merlin wasn't sure whether he wanted to stay here, or face the wrath of Arthur and the knights in the cells. Ultimately he wasn't given that choice. "Let him out, but leave him here. I don't want him too far from me." Drin motioned to one of the few guards left in the room, and Merlin was lowered down, letting out a small whine as his magic flowed into his fingertips as if it were a numb appendage waking up.

That was until individual cuffs were attached to his wrists, impeding his magic once more, though he now had free movement. Clearly Drin didn't think much of him as a physical threat, and he was right. Merlin slumped into the nearest corner of the room, too weak to move. His arms were stiff beyond belief, his torso ached and his breathing was ragged. Drin motioned for a guard to leave two small offerings next to the boy, a bronze goblet filled with murky coloured water, and a matching plate, complete with a lump of bread that looked so stale it could've been used as a weapon had Merlin the energy to throw it at his captors.

"Eat up boy. We're not nearly done yet. I need someone like you if I'm to become King, and I plan on it." Drin growled, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him, leaving Merlin alone for the first time since they'd been attacked.

Merlin reached out a tentative hand towards the cup, and it was all he could do not to gulp down its contents and make himself sick. He made sure it lasted as long as possible as he alternated between sips of bitter water and tiny chunks of solid bread.

When his measly meal was finished, Merlin leant back against the wall, the cold, damp stone chilling his bare skin, but he was too drained to care. He let what could've been sleep, or possibly unconsciousness, consume him, and he was left in an unrestful slumber until Drin reappeared a few hours later.

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… **Yeah, short and not great. Sorry about that. The next chapter is definitely going to be better.**


	6. Of Rejection and Rants

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **So to make up for that lousy last chapter (I'm admitting it, it was bad) I already had this this chapter written and ready to go, so you guys get two in one day – this one is double the length of the last. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, ranting Gwaine is fun.**

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Gwaine was the first to leap to his feet when he saw the king, his eyes silently asking the question ' _Merlin?_ ' but Arthur cast his eyes to the floor, landing with a grunt when he was shoved back into his cell.

"Are you ok?" Leon was the first to asking, assessing the king for any injuries. Gwaine eyed Arthur uneasily, his breath caught in his throat where a lump was forming. If Merlin was… _gone_ then Arthur would've told him by now, right?

"Did you see him?" Arthur seemed fine, Gwaine could clearly see that, and right now he needed answers to more pressing matters, like the state of his best friend. "My best friend is upstairs alone with a maniac, the ones who should be rescuing him are locked down here in cells and I have not had a drink in two days, so forgive me if I'm not in the best of moods." Gwaine curled his fists and took a breath. "Now you tell me what the hell they are doing to him." Gwaine was never the most patient of men, even less so now.

"Sorcerer." Arthur croaked, his voice failing him. What else could he tell them?

"What?" Chorused the entire round table.

"Merlin is a sorcerer." Arthur huffed through gritted teeth. He couldn't believe he had to say those words out loud, they sounded even sillier as they hung in the air than they had done in his head.

"No." Gwaine breathed, running his hand through his tangled locks. He didn't seem the least bit surprised at the revelation, wearing an expression of panic instead of the hurt, betrayal and anger that Arthur wore.

"He doesn't matter anymore." Those words hurt the most to say, but Arthur didn't know if he could ever stomach laying eyes on his ex-friend ever again, the thought of his duty to punish and execute those with magic, execute Merlin, revolted him to the core. Perhaps when they finally got out Arthur would banish him, send him back to Ealdor where he would become Cenred's problem. Or perhaps Drin would just kill Merlin and make everything easier. Arthur felt disgusted with himself for even entertaining such a thought.

"How the hell can you say that, you heartless bastard!" Gwaine looked ready to push the cell bars apart with his bare hands and kill Arthur, not caring that threatening the King was considered treason. There was no way he'd stand for Arthur abandoning Merlin, especially not now, when the boy needed them most.

"Gwaine, that's enough." Snapped Leon, keen to uphold propriety even in a situation as dire as theirs, but the dark haired knight wasn't nearly done yet.

"All Merlin has ever done is be loyal to you, saved you and put every thought of happiness for himself aside, all for you!" Gwaine implored the king, but he was having a job of erasing the poison Uther had seeped into Arthur's mind for years.

"Loyal to me? He's lied to me for years, and probably conspired behind my back to overthrow me! You call that loyalty?" Arthur couldn't hide the betrayal laden thickly in his voice, still in shock that the person closest to him had hurt him so deeply. He shouldn't be surprised, after Morgana, that magic could corrupt even the best of people.

"Does that honestly sound like Merlin to you? When has that boy ever asked for recognition in anything he's ever done? He's never asked for even a thank you after all the shit you put him through on a daily basis! He's been your servant for so long, you can't really believe he's been playing you all this time?" Gwaine stared incredulously, and had this been any other situation he'd have been rolling on the floor in tears at the thought of Merlin trying to overthrow Arthur, the very notion ridiculous.

"Gwaine… he's a sorcerer! How can we trust anything he's said or done? He's probably enchanted the lot of us." Arthur attempted to reason with his knight, but that was the final red rag to the already worked up bull.

"Enchanted? You're an even bigger idiot than I originally thought, don't you dare say that!" Gwaine gripped hard on his cell bars, almost roaring now. He didn't care how insubordinate he sounded, he was not going to let a comment like that slide.

"Gwaine, show some respect!" Leon futilely was still trying to reel Gwaine back in, but the knight was far too gone now.

"Listen to him, he's gone insane!" Gwaine flung his arms out in frustration. "Do any of you actually think Merlin – you know Merlin, our _friend_ , that dark haired boy about this tall – could hurt anybody, let alone his precious king?" There was a deafening silence for a beat before Gwaine continued. "Do you really care for him that little that you'd so easily cast him aside?" He glared at Arthur.

"Leave it, Gwaine." Arthur closed his eyes, still trying to make sense of the very muddled situation in his very muddled head, but Gwaine simply ignored the king.

"Let me ask you, what did Merlin do when he revealed his magic? Did he try to kill you?" Gwaine was seething, determined to change the king's mind if it was the last thing he did.

"He stopped a sword from running me through. It doesn't change anything though." Arthur muttered weakly, Gwaine even more infuriated now.

"Doesn't change any- can you even hear yourself right now? Merlin saved your life with magic! Or would you rather he just saved you the old fashioned way and jumped in front of the sword?"

"Did you know?" Arthur growled at Gwaine, his own temper rising at the thought that one of his knights could've known about Merlin and not him, no matter how close they were. He refused outright to answer Gwaine's question, because the thought of Merlin dying – actually dying for Arthur – felt so wrong in his head. Gwaine nodded, fixating on the wall behind Arthur, unable to look at him anymore.

"Since we met. That tavern brawl, remember? Merlin threw plates at a man attacking me. Not with his hands." Arthur let out a low growl and shook his head. He'd known Gwaine for years, how long had his servant been hiding magic from him? Had he had it before coming to Camelot? "I never told him I knew though, I didn't want to endanger him in any way, and besides, I knew he'd tell me when it was right." Gwaine smiled sadly, before scowling at Arthur once more. "So now it's your turn princess. Tell me what are they doing to _my_ friend?" He couldn't believe how idiotic Arthur was sometimes. Gwaine truly believed that the king didn't deserve the unwavering friendship of someone as good as Merlin.

Arthur sighed and leant his head against the wall, welcoming the cold chill. Despite the hurt lingering inside, the memory of a broken Merlin was still making him nauseous.

"Torturing him. He wants Merlin to help him do something, attack Camelot probably. Neither of them seem to be giving in. He said Merlin had been rude to him," a humourless chuckle, "Merlin has a pretty bad wound somewhere on his back, I couldn't see it but it was bleeding… a lot." Arthur lowered his voice. He couldn't understand why he still felt so guilty that his heart was tearing itself apart, and Gwaine growling in frustration didn't help matters.

"He's going to die up there, alone and broken." He ran his hand through his dark locks, working himself up into a panic. "He's going to die and it's all your fault!" He pointed an accusatory finger at Arthur.

"He won't die." Arthur said quietly, not quite believing the words himself.

"And you know this how? Because he's Merlin? Arthur, he has no resistance training, training of any kind actually, yet you drag him out, patrol after patrol, no weapons, no way to defend himself and just assume that he'll be OK!" Gwaine snarled. "He needs us Arthur, he's alone, he's hurt and he needs us. Never mind he has magic, he's _Merlin_." Gwaine simply shook his head, his glazed over eyes hazily focussing on a spot on the wall next to Arthur. "He doesn't deserve you."

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 **Hopefully this makes up for chapter 5. Chapter 7 shouldn't be too long, it's about half written at the moment, I won't go AWOL on you again I promise.**


	7. Of Leverage and Reunions

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **This chapter I swear to god…**

 **It couldn't make its mind up how long it was or where to end, I just… *runs off screaming in frustration***

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"What do you mean 'he doesn't deserve you'? That _sorcerer_ has lied to me for years! Our whole friendship is built on a lie!" Arthur growled, the intense ache in his heart building once more.

"Friendship? So you admit it now? That he's more than just a servant to you?" There was only a resounding silence from the king. Gwaine shook his head, a low growl in his throat. "Why do you think he lied Arthur? Look at how you're reacting now. He must've been terrified. Let's be honest, if he'd told you off his own back, would you have accepted him with open arms?"

"Magic is magic." Arthur grimaced, clenching his jaw though his words seemed hollow, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to believe them.

"I'm confused. Is it the fact Merlin has magic that's pissing you off, or the fact that Merlin _hid_ magic from you?" He was glaring at the king, full knowing that provoking Arthur might not achieve his goal, but right now he just needed to let off steam and, to Gwaine at least, the king seemed to have a bullseye on his forehead.

Arthur didn't have chance to answer, instead the gloomy dungeon echoed with the sound of multiple footsteps stomping towards them. Silently, they began to unlock each of the cells and roughly drag its occupants out, securing them immediately, sounds of protest filling the room often devoid of sound.

"What's going on?" Arthur grunted, attempting to shrug off the thug gripping his wrists behind his back unsuccessfully.

"Where the hell are you taking us?" Leon was also struggling against his oppressor, digging his heels into the ground in order to keep level with the king, unwilling to let him out of his eyesight. At this moment he wasn't quite sure who the threat was to Arthur, the guards, or Gwaine.

"Seems that boy won't co-operate. Need some leverage apparently." That foul grin appeared again, and suddenly Arthur felt icy cold.

"He won't join Drin?" Arthur was confused. It was a win-win situation for the sorcerer, his and Drin's combined forces of magic and manpower would best even Camelot's defences. Drin would take the throne presumably, Merlin would have the power he clearly sought and Arthur would be dead in the ground, the last Pendragon to rule.

"You idiot, of course he won't! He's going to remain loyal to you until he dies, which by the sounds of it is going to be pretty soon!" Gwaine spat, struggling against the guard holding him.

"Why? We know about him now, there's no point keeping the charade up." Arthur couldn't hide the hurt radiating off his voice.

"No point-? Sometimes your stupidity astounds me." The knight gaped at Arthur. How could the king still not see Merlin for who he was? Why couldn't he look past the hurt and see that Merlin was friend, not foe.

"Watch it. I could have your head for that." Arthur threatened in a low tone, though he'd quickly come to the realisation that threats were often idle where Gwaine was concerned.

"Take it. I dare you." He gave the king a sardonic grin as his eyes narrowed with a challenging fervour.

"Would both of you stop? There's a more pressing matter, like how we're getting out." Leon grumbled, not caring that they'd be overheard by the guards restraining them. What they had in muscle and stature, they very obviously lacked in brains. He'd only heard a few of them speak, and had been amazed that they'd had the capability to do so. Drin had clearly got a bargain when paying for this lot, Leon was sure.

"And how we're getting Merlin out." Gwaine prompted with a slight nod of his head, keeping his narrowed eyes straight ahead, his mind whirling with various plans, none of which were realistic and one actually involved a spoon and bag of apples, though he wasn't quite sure where he was going with that.

"Yes, Gwaine." Leon sighed, trying his best to appease the troublesome knight.

"No. We're not going back for him." Arthur shook his head defiantly, his tone firm but heavy, as if he was trying to still convince the part of him ruled by his father.

"You-! Fine." Gwaine shook his head, he was done pleading with a man who would not see reason. "Consider this my resignation. I'm going back for him no matter what. I hope the rest of you have fun with your consciences."

"I'll help you, I'm sorry Arthur, but sorcerer or not, Merlin is my friend." Percival uttered, his face dark. "He's never hurt me, therefore I have no reason to distrust him."

"Shut it you lot. Just move." The guard leading the pack whipped his head around and scowled at them. "Giving me bloody headache." He suddenly chuckled maliciously, and nodded to the figure hung limply ahead of them. "Bet his'll be worse though."

"Merlin!" Gwaine's roar was loud enough to be heard in Camelot when he laid eyes on his best friend, his brother in everything but blood.

His heart stilled in his chest momentarily before the worry and shock that had been building up over the last few days turned into pure unbridled rage. "Drin is going to fucking regret ever touching him when I get out." Gwaine cursed under his breath, but loud enough for Arthur and his fellow knights to hear. He could see the slight nods of Percival and Elyan out of the corner of his eye, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a slight smile.

"G-gwaine? What're you doing here?" Merlin's hoarse voice was somewhere between a slur and a stutter, his eyes were blinking slowly and squinting, as if to check if his friend was really there.

"Don't worry about me mate. You've certainly looked better." Gwaine gave him a comforting grin, though it didn't quite reach his eyes, which still burned with anger at the state of Merlin.

"Y'know me. Clumsy, I feel like the stairs have been fighting back." Gwaine's brow immediately furrowed with worry.

"Where do you think we are Merlin?" His eyes narrowed towards the limp figure and his heart was now pounding with worry.

"Are we not in Camelot?" Merlin looked confused as to why Gwaine would ask such a question, if they weren't in Camelot where else would they be?

"He's delirious." Gwaine sighed, screwing his eyes shut. His hands would have been knotted in his hair in frustration had they not been secured behind his back.

"Why?" Arthur spoke without thinking, before it became apparent to him what stupid question that was. Gwaine shot him a look of utter contempt before gritting his teeth.

"Oh I don't know, how about the stab wounds, cuts, bruises, that rib that looks wonky, you want me to carry on princess?" Gwaine raised his eyebrows at the king, each hideous description of Merlin burning a permanent memory into his mind.

"Ah good, you're all here. The fun can begin." Drin clasped his hands and smirked, striding towards a very hazy looking Merlin.

"You bastard!" Gwaine spat, pulling hard against the hands restraining him. "How could you hurt him like that?"

"He's powerful, and he's useful. I need him on my side." Drin's voice was chillingly detached as he nonchalantly shrugged.

"Why am I chained up?" Merlin pondered quietly to himself, the puzzlement evident in his voice as his eyes squinted, his mind trying to recall the events of the last couple of days.

"Wake him up." Drin rolled his eyes and commanded. One thug appeared seemingly out of nowhere, carrying a bucket, filled to the brim with the same murky water Merlin had been forced to drink earlier when he was allowed a few hours relief from his seemingly endless torture. In one swift movement, the water was no longer in the bucket but covering Merlin head to toe leaving the poor boy dripping and shuddering.

"Merlin!" Gwaine called out again, struggling against his bonds as Merlin had let out a yelp of surprise, becoming as alert as he could be in his current situation.


	8. Of Convoys and Questions

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Ok so I've now run out of pre-written chapters, which I was dreading because I've just rethought the second half of this fic and was worried I'd have no story and hundreds of people baying for my blood.** **Fast-forward to today, and I was in the shower (tmi?) when literally the entire plot hit me out of nowhere. So I'm thinking that there's at least 9 more chapters if everything goes to plan.**

 **The only downside is I've had to take out one of the most emotional scenes I've ever written, which I'm gutted about, but I realised that it just wasn't where I wanted to take the story. I might post it as an outtake, or maybe work it into a one-shot, because I'm so miffed it's had to be scrapped.**

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"W-what?" Merlin's voice was surer of itself when he spoke, but there was still a trace of a slur in his words. His eyes scanned the room to try to understand what was happening.

"Don't worry mate, it'll be alright." Gwaine did his best to appease the panicky warlock from his restrained position.

Merlin's gaze was still darting around the room, but landed on a certain blonde figure, who was looking anywhere but at his servant and had been doing so ever since he entered the room.

"Arthur?" Merlin squinted, and then his eyes widen, memories of the fear in his monarch's eyes flooding back into his head. "I'm so sorry I-"

A hard thwack to his face silenced his apologetic ramblings.

"Shut up and listen to me. I'm going to explain this all very carefully for the benefit of your intelligence-challenged friends." Drin ignored the very vocal outcry from Gwaine at being insulted in such a way. "I am going to ask you one simple question one more time, and this time you are going to agree without hesitation, and do you know why? Otherwise, my men are going to take their very sharp swords and starting disfiguring your friends."

"Don't you dare!" Merlin growled, his voice still shaky as he attempted to resist the manacles but he was just too exhausted to fight. Still he tried, he wouldn't knowingly let anyone he cared about get hurt, no matter how they presently felt about him

He didn't know how the others had reacted to news, whether they'd banded with Arthur and branded him an evil monster, or if they'd forgiven his lies and saw him for who he really tried to be. Judging from Gwaine's protectiveness since he'd arrived, Merlin hoped that at least his friend had sided with him. The warlock had no idea just how much the shaggy knight had really fought in his corner.

"You need an example to go along with that explanation? That can be arranged. You," he pointed at Gwaine, "you seem to be awful chatty with Merlin here. You'll do."

Before anyone could raise their voices in protest, one of the few guards with a voice came barrelling through the door.

"I'm sorry sir, but…" The man was unable to finish, his body too concerned with drawing more and more oxygen into his lungs.

"What the hell is it you useless oaf? If you haven't noticed, I happen to be a little busy right now, so this better be worth my time." Drin glowered at the man, currently doubled over. How a man built like an ox could be winded by a few staircases, Drin would never know.

"There's a convoy outside, they say they're looking for you." He breathed out, bowing his head slightly.

"A convoy?" Drin eyebrows raised as his eyes squinted, peering curiously at the guard.

"Yes sir. They appear to be from Cenred's lands." He nodded, recalling the insignia they bore on their robes and weaponry.

"Damn those blasted idiots! If they're back already this can't be good news." Drin's hand flew to his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to regain some composure. "Are all the prisoners secure?"

"Yes sir, I made sure of before they were brought up." The guard smiled proudly, looking immensely pleased with himself, despite the fact that that he was only doing the one job Drin kept him around for.

"Very well, show me to them." Drin grumbled, motioning for the guard to turn back around. He glanced briefly over his shoulder. "I'll be back for you lot in a moment."

As soon as he'd left the room, Gwaine took the opportunity to scan his eyes over Merlin, mentally cataloguing his injuries, so as to know where to inflict them on Drin once he finally got a hold of him.

"How are you mate? Really?" His voice was low and his eyes held flickers of worry.

"I've been worse. The hospitality's a bit naff, I wouldn't recommend we stay here again." Merlin croaked, a half-smile ghosting over his lips.

"We're going to get you out of here." Gwaine returned the small smile, making sure his voice conveyed every word as a promise.

"I've told you, we're not." Arthur shot back, keeping his glare fixed on Gwaine, still unable to even look at his servant. The sudden outburst from the king seemed to hurt Merlin more than Drin's knife had, his heart clenched as jolts of fear stabbed through him.

"Arthur, please-" Merlin was tired. So tired. He just wanted to go home, to see Gaius and Gwen. He wanted to do his chores. Oh how he'd missed simple tasks like polishing and cleaning. Arthur needed to listen to him, to understand.

But Arthur's anger and hurt had been building up to a point where it could no longer be contained, and he couldn't stop it from being unleashed onto Merlin.

"No. You know what Merlin? I don't want to hear your half-baked excuse for why you would be such an idiot as to practice magic when you knew it was forbidden and how it corrupts people. I don't want to hear you swear that you're not evil, or planning to overthrow Camelot, or how you've been wrongly persecuted because I know-"

"Arthur!" Merlin's voice was suddenly angry. Angier than Arthur had ever heard the manservant before. Merlin didn't get angry. Not like this. He got whiny, or pissed off, or grumpy, but never the full on rage he was now hearing in Merlin's voice. "Look at me!" It was a command, not a suggestion, and finally Arthur did.

His jaw tightened and his breath hitched at the sight of his manservant. The king didn't understand his reaction, he already knew the boy had been hurt and his betrayal was still all too recent, but his heart clenched in fear when he saw Merlin. Merlin, who had secretly given Arthur the strength he needed to be king, looked broken, and Arthur couldn't help him. Arthur didn't know if he wanted to help him anymore.

"If I'm really the traitor to Camelot that you believe me to be, why do I look like this? Why do I hurt so much?" His voice was quiet and broken, like he'd only just realised what had happened. His head dropped low, his body began to tremble more violently and his legs seemed to give up supporting him and he almost dangled from the manacles biting into the raw flesh he once called his wrists. "All this… is for Camelot. For you." Despite the softness of his voice, there was still an undertone of strength running through it. "Please don't leave me here."

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 **Just a quick thank you to those who review, follow, favourite and read. You guys really keep me going.**


	9. Of Answers and Drunks

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Hello guys. I feel like this is a needed chapter. It's a lot lighter than most, and because I've had a rough few days, I wanted to write something different (I write so much whump and angst it's unbelievable).**

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Arthur could feel his façade beginning to crumble there and then. Merlin was hurt, he was in unimaginable pain and Arthur was sat there doing nothing. He put that down to the war raging inside of his head. The offensive attack coming through as bursts of his father's voice, and the defensive struggle coming from Merlin, the knights and Arthur himself.

Experience against logic, knowledge against gut feeling.

Magic against Merlin.

So much was needed to be discussed. The length of time Merlin had been practising magic, how he used his magic and what his intentions were, but everyone was currently sat in a trepidatious silence, no one wanting to be the first to voice their opinions.

Arthur let out a long steady breath, steeling his nerves for what he hoped would be the right choice. A choice everyone would regret if it backfired.

"Alright." He said slowly, catching the attention of the captives. "We'll go back to Camelot. All of us."

The noise that followed was unlike anything he'd heard before, sighs of relief tinged with worry and panic. None knew what this meant for the warlock, even Arthur himself wasn't sure what the outcome of this would be. Would he keep Merlin's secret? He'd been told time and time again, no man is above the law, not even the king nor those closest to him, but the thought of Merlin on trial, Merlin being executed, it was far too much for him to bear.

"You're serious?" Gwaine looked at Arthur, his face searching the king's for any sign of deception or doubt, but only found reluctant acceptance.

"If we ever bloody get out of here." Arthur grumbled, tugging futilely at his metal shackles behind his back. His arms were beginning to ache, but it was nothing compared to what Merlin must've been feeling at that moment.

"Are you all alright?" Merlin was trying to inspect the knights, methodically searching for wounds of any kind.

Bloody typical, Arthur thought to himself. There was Merlin, hanging limply from the roof with wrists cut to shreds, covered in deep gashes and bruises, not breathing properly, and he was worried about everyone else but himself.

"We're all good mate, seemed Drin didn't think we were worth hurting." Gwaine immediately cringed at his words, as even he realised how tactless he sounded. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry about it." Merlin gave him a slight grin, and, had he had use of his arms, he'd have waved off the comment.

"Have you had a chance to rest since…?" Gwaine stumbled over his words, tiptoeing around the issue even though it was quite literally staring him in the face.

"Briefly. I got a bit of sleep, some water that tasted like it'd come from a swamp and he gave me this piece of bread that was as solid as Arthur's skull." Merlin gave the king as soft smile, tentatively trying to ease themselves back into some form of communication, back into the familiar banter. Merlin wasn't an idiot, he knew everything had changed and most likely they'd never be as they were, but for a moment Arthur returned his smile and they were Arthur and his mischievous manservant once more.

"And how would you know what swamp water tastes like, _Merlin_?" Once the tease had left his mouth and Merlin's smile was widening, Arthur felt a rush of something, happiness, guilt, relief, _something_ , sweep through him. It felt so good to talk to him as normally as they could, given the circumstances.

"We have to think of something soon. Drin seems like he could snap at any minute." Leon eyed the door nervously, proving there was a real threat to the men, as it wasn't often the elder knight got spooked.

"Merlin, if I- gave you permission… just this once…" Arthur couldn't believe the words tumbling from his mouth. None other than Merlin could make him question everything he'd ever known like this.

"Not going to work." Merlin sighed, tilting his head back so he could gesture to the cuffs. "Manacles. Magic suppressing. Haven't been able to fight back." His eyes flickered away from his friends, not wanting them to realise how pathetic he was without his magic, just another defenceless servant.

"Why didn't you use magic when they took you from the cells?" Elyan stared quizzically at Merlin, there was no hint to judgement or accusation, only perplexity. Merlin breathed out, disappointment clear in his face.

"Didn't want to get caught. You would've figured out there was something going on if I singlehandedly took out two guards whilst tied up." Merlin cast his wincing gaze to the knights, most of whom were gaping at him.

"You could do that?" Percival mused, eyes widening in astonishment when Merlin nodded, albeit with a humble nod.

"Kind of seems pointless now. You found out anyway." He shook his head, refusing to look at his friends anymore. "I was a coward. I should've got you all out, but I didn't want anyone to hate me."

"Listen to me Merlin." Merlin's blue orbs met Gwaine's kindly gaze. "We're your friends. We'd never hate you, ok? And you're not a coward. You are the bravest person I've ever met, and I've, you know, met a lot of people." He grinned, lightening up the room if only for a minute, before his expression grew sombre again. "No ordinary person could go through what you have and hold their tongue for so long." There were nods of agreement from the knights, and Arthur was notably silent, unable to contradict anything said about the warlock.

"Thank you." Merlin's grin nearly tore his face in two.

"Can I ask you one thing?" Gwaine looked thoughtful for a moment, and Merlin's stomach dropped. He really wasn't sure he was up to answering pointed questions about his magic, worried that his friends might not like the answers they were given. "Can you… turn water into mead?" His face still bore a look of seriousness, but his eyes sparkled with mirth, and to the knight's delight, the warlock's sparkled back.

"I could try." Merlin couldn't help but laugh, no matter how much it hurt, feeling like iron weights were being removed from his shoulders, weights that had been there his whole life.

"Then I shall never be sober again." Gwaine chortled, deadly serious in his words if Merlin's word ever came to fruition.

"You're never sober anyway." Elyan reminded him, as the knight sported his own grin.

"Life's more fun that way, my friend." The Irish rogue smirked.

Everyone was smiling now. As long as they had each other, they'd be alright.

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 **Phew. Arthur might finally be beginning to look past Merlin's magic (about time).**

 **I'm hoping to get 10 finished soon, but it's being difficult so there might be a** _ **little**_ **wait on it.**


	10. Of Threats and Taunts

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **This would have been posted sooner, but guess which idiot managed to give herself concussion?** **I laughed too hard and bashed my head off a chair. One long Netflix cartoon binge watch later and I finally got this chapter done.**

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"What's Drin doing getting involved with someone like Cenred?" The mood grew sombre once more as Percival voiced a concern unspoken until now.

"Maniacal wannabe tyrants anonymous?"

"This is serious Gwaine!" Leon hissed, growing more and more tired of his flippant nature towards the problems facing them.

"I'm being serious, they have meetings every Thursday." Sarcasm dripped from Gwaine's tone. "How the hell are we supposed to know? Do we guess?" He gave the knight a steely glare.

"Bloody idiots. You give them one job, one bloody job and they manage to screw it up." The grumblings came from Drin as he stormed into the room, followed by a guard who flinched nervously every time his employer got a little too close. Though what Drin could physically do to someone twice his size who wasn't restrained was anyone's guess.

"What's the deal with Cenred then? You two making big plans?" Merlin croaked, as Drin leaned against the wall opposite him, his mind visibly whirling with the planning of his next move.

"Something like that."

"He's promised you something hasn't he?" Merlin looked at Drin sceptically. "There's got to be some kind of exchange going on, I know neither of you are cooperating out of the goodness of your hearts." Merlin wasn't sure either of them actually had any goodness in their hearts.

"Who I meet with is none of your concern." Drin snapped, then flicked his head in the direction of the captives. "I'd be more worried about blondie over there." But Merlin wouldn't be deterred quite so easily, the boy had a knack for prying when it'd do more harm than good.

"You want Camelot. We know. We also know that Cenred wants Camelot. How's that going to work then?" He scoffed.

"If you're so clever, you tell me, oh mighty oracle." Drin crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, and for a split second Merlin had a flashback to Arthur, only a few days before they left on their fateful hunting trip, stood with arms crossed in his room, making some indignant remark about how Merlin had made the slightest error in one of his many chores.

"You want to take over Camelot, but you have neither the manpower nor the tactics. That's why you need me, because let's be honest, you stumbled upon us by complete accident. There is no way that was a planned attack, merely opportunistic. Cenred however has the ability to raise an army. But he needs something else to make a successful attack. Someone like… me." Merlin's stomach sank.

"Those buffoons were on a simple scouting mission I ordered into Cenred's lands. They were disguised as soldiers of his to be able to infiltrate his castle. I just wanted statistics." He placed a weary hand on his forehead, regret written all over his face. "I wanted to know what would be available to me before he made a pitifully low offer. How was I supposed to know that the outfits they procured were from an old regime? The fools were immediately captured and they promptly spilled the beans on you lot. So Cenred is now aware that I have not only the king of Camelot and his finest knights in my possession, but also his sorcerer of a manservant." Drin gave them a snarky sneer, mentally cursing the fools who'd revealed his play far too soon.

Merlin hadn't been worried for himself up until now. He had accepted that Drin was stark raving mad, and that he'd most likely end his life in this room. He knew that he would never give in to his demands, and that Arthur would hopefully figure something out the free the rest of them. But with Cenred involved… the thought of Merlin being forced to use his powers against his home, against the people he called family… he'd rather die.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Drin shook his head, pinching the slight bridge of his nose once more.

"I'm sure your leadership is top notch." Merlin smirked under his breath, and the beginnings of a chuckle left Gwaine's lips.

"You are not in any position to be making remarks like that, _boy_." Drin screamed and moved closer to Merlin, eyeing his handiwork up and down. "Done some damage to you, haven't I?" He prodded at Merlin's crusted wounds, making the boy emit a low hiss, accompanied by outcries of worry from the knights. "What's one more to add to the collection?"

He moved to Merlin's back, where the stab wound was becoming ever more swollen and red. His knife had appeared from seemingly nowhere, and the warlock tried to keep the scream forcing its way up his throat contained as the cruel blade was drawn across his uninjured shoulder blade, leaving a dripping scarlet streak in its wake.

"I have had it with people not following orders today. Look at yourself. Merlin the magician. Has quite a ring to it, doesn't it?" Drin sneered, looking immensely pleased with himself, as Merlin gritted his teeth through the taunt. He was more powerful than anyone in the room could imagine, yet here he was being referred to as nothing more than a fairground conjuror. Drin moved to stand in front of Merlin, just inches from his face, clearly realising he was safe to do so, the warlock had no energy to attempt a kick out at him. "And you, _magician_ , are currently tied up," Drin wiggled his bony fingers and gestured to the Merlin's hanging body, "and, might I add, _severely_ wounded. Just imagine the damage I could do to one of them." He moved up and down the line of nobility and commoners alike, as if he were an army general inspecting a new batch of recruits. "Do you think they'd serve Camelot well without half their faces, or only a third of their leg?" He paused at the grimacing blonde figure. "King Arthur. You could do without your thumbs, I'm sure. Or maybe even your entire head." The threat was followed by the rattling of Merlin's chains becoming more intense coupled with a vocal outburst from the warlock, which simply made Drin scoff. "You and your magic-phobia has caused nothing but anguish for dear Merlin, yet he has this loyalty to you. I don't get it." He shook his head in bewilderment.

"It's called being a friend, you ass." Merlin chuckled, catching Drin's attention whose head tilted slightly.

The warlock all day had been feeling his magic trying to reach him, as if it was trapped at the bottom of a deep well. He had been leaning over the edge, closer and closer, inching closer towards his goal. It was no easy feat; trying to access his magic when he shouldn't be able to was hurting him. His head was pounding and his fingers burned like he had chilblains, but he was so close he couldn't stop now. He only needed to distract Drin for a couple more minutes, praying that if he could reach his magic he'd be able to break these damned manacles.

Arthur and the knights gave him very pointed looks of 'what the hell do you think you're doing?' but he easily brushed them off. He was going to protect them until his last.

"Something that you'd know nothing about, rattling about, all alone in this tower. That's probably what sent you loopy, am I right Drin?" Merlin was sniggering now, watching his captor's foul face redden to a shade a rose would envy.

"You insolent little _freak_! You will respect me in my court!" Drin spat, turning on his heel to point a bony finger in Merlin's sallow face.

"Your _court_? Look around you, we're in a drafty old crumbling turret!" Merlin's head tilted back, rolling his eyes like he was back in Camelot arguing with Arthur. "You have no court, no subjects, no power, nothing! Those aren't knights, they haven't sworn allegiance to you. They're mercenaries, swearing allegiance to what little gold you can pay them!" Merlin could tell he'd hit a nerve from the way Drin's eye began to manically twitch.


	11. Of Laughter and Madness

**A/N: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **…Hi. Before you get out the torches and pitchforks (which are totally justified), let me explain.**

 **I'm sorry. For a while I've had a mixture of personal problems and a serious case of writer's block. I went on a trip and uploaded what I had written of chapters 11 onto my iPad so I could write it in the car. But every time I even thought about writing I just felt no energy or enthusiasm for it. And then I got angry with myself because I said that I wouldn't be one of those authors who just abandons their stories. And you guys are awesome. Seriously. You kept reminding me this was here, whether it was through reviews or just by continuing to follow this story and add it to your favourites. I owe it to all of you, all over the world, to keep going with this.**

 **I'm not sure when the next update will be, but I'm going to make a real effort to write, because I know if I push myself I can do it.**

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"Shut it!" Drin squeaked, his voice a few octaves higher than a man in his position would've liked it to be.

"You do realise you're not going to be king, right?" Merlin cocked his head and smirked a sad half-smile at Drin. He knew what Cenred was like, and that the man had no intention of sharing power. Drin was simply a means to an end, he'd be discarded once he'd proved his usefulness, and Merlin couldn't understand how the warlord was so blind to the fact.

"You know nothing of my affairs, boy." Drin scoffed confidently, though his voice hitched slightly through his bravado. "Do you know what? I'm sick of all this. You will submit to me, and I see no other way to make you stupid sorcerer see reason. Guard!" He screeched, motioning to the heavy that had been shadowing him. "Bring King Arthur over here." He couldn't have looked more smug, his face beaming with schadenfreude, as the large, gruff man strode over to the king and grasped the struggling figure with one meaty hand.

"Get your hands off me!" Arthur commanded to deaf ears, battling the manhandling.

"Back off!" Merlin growled. He had to reach his magic before Drin could do anything, he just needed a few more minutes. The ever familiar tingle in his fingers was ever so slowly coming back to him, and it felt _good_. Too long he'd been without his magic, he needed it like he needed air, the world felt close and empty minus the energy that inhabited him.

"One last chance Merlin, you join me or I kill the king." His words flew loudly from his repulsive grin and echoed throughout the room. The sound of resistance reverberated against his words, those sworn to protecting Arthur and the one who'd pledged his servitude until his demise were desperate to make good on their promises.

"You bastard, you're going to kill the king even if I join you!" Anger. Anger was good, anger and protectiveness were even better. A powerful combination to fuel the ardent fervour Merlin needed right now.

 _Nearly. Come on!_

"True." Drin gave him a unabashed nod accompanied with an unapologetic sneer.

He saw no reason to lie to his prisoners, there was clearly no room for the Pendragon dynasty once he would become King. The boy was a _servant_ , he knew nothing of treaties and politics, and Cenred had all but guaranteed his regency. However much he wanted to deny it though, the young warlock had managed to plant a seed of doubt in his mind. The next time he met with the young king he would be able to set his mind at ease. Though when he'd said 'guaranteed' he really meant 'inferred', but Drin was sure the king would not break his… _inference_.

"I am warning you, Arthur is not dying today!" Merlin meant that with every fibre of his being. He would not allow his king to die at the hands of this monster.

 _Closer, just a bit closer._

It was overtaking him, and he knew pushing his magic this hard would not be good in the long run, but rational thought was out of his head at the moment.

"You're going to save him? By what, rattling your chains at me? You're nothing without your magic Merlin. _Nothing_." Drin spat, a cruel chuckle emerging from his lips.

The sting of the insult only spurred Merlin on more, who was desperately clawing for his magic. Déjà vu swept over him at the sight of the guard raising his sword, readying to part Arthur's head from his body.

Arthur closed his eyes. This was it. This was really it. He was going to die. His reign would end tragically short. Camelot would be left defenceless, his people unguided. He still hadn't made his peace with Merlin or his magic. They'd shared a moment earlier, in an unusual bubble of calm, and it was like Arthur had seen Merlin for the first time in days. He'd seen the challenging boy with the big ears. He'd seen the outspoken insolent manservant. He'd seen his friend.

He waited for the blow. He thought of his kingdom. Of Gwen. Of his knights. Of Merlin. None came.

"Oi, loony! I'm a warlock, not a sorcerer." Merlin was laughing. Why in god's name was he laughing?

"And I'm supposed to care because…?" Drin shot him an unimpressed look.

Arthur peaked an eye open, only to see there was something off about Merlin. He looked relieved. Arthur's stomach dropped, had all his words been lies? Did he really relish in seeing the king about to perish?

But then it occurred to him, Merlin was the distraction. Just like every other time they'd got themselves into trouble, his daft servant was trying to take the brunt of it, and Arthur couldn't help but feel both gratitude and guilt.

The boy's chuckles were quiet at first, but they bubbled up into deeper, genuine laughter, verging on hysterical.

"You really didn't count on one thing." Merlin grinned through his laughter, sending Drin's eye into a frantic seizure.

"Oh my god, he's genuinely gone mad." Gwaine groaned in consternation for his friend, as images of him fighting to keep Merlin out of the madhouse once they returned to Camelot flashed across his vision.

"Actually there were many things you didn't count on, but let's stick to one. Just to keep it easier for that simple brain in there. Friendship. You thought that I'd be so afraid of who I am being revealed to everyone that I'd roll over and swear my allegiance to you. You thought that you could drive a wedge between me and the men I consider my brothers. And you underestimated me Drin. I am no sorcerer. I am a warlock. My name is Merlin and I was born with magic. I'm not mad Gwaine, I am magic."

With one last effort he felt himself mentally grab hold of the golden power inside him, and snap his manacles clean off.

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 **Jeez, cliffhanger or what?**

 **N.b: I finished this at 2:40 in the morning on an iPad, it is proofread, but if there's a glaringly obvious mistake let me know and I'll fix it.**


	12. Of Power and Freedom

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **New chapter, yay! This one took a while to write, just because I wanted to get it right, and also get it pretty long (longest chapter yet at 1,700 words!). Chapter 13 is half written so shouldn't be too long (don't hold me to this). I swear the next multi-chapter fic I upload after this one I will create some sort of upload schedule.**

 **Also, thank you so much everyone - _Of Swords and Warlords_ has 125 reviews, which is just mental. You're awesome and every review means so much to me. I keep all my email notifications in a little folder, I never delete any alert from FanFiction, that goes for follows and favourites as well.**

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The world exploded in a sandstorm of golden power, as mercenary guards were thrown effortlessly into trembling stone walls. The few objects furnishing the room were also sent into a cascade of power, crashing into the walls and immobilising the now unconscious guards. Arthur and the knights found themselves unchained, the manacles adorning their wrists simply falling off, allowing them to rise up. Once they'd gained their bearings they began to arm themselves with the discarded swords of incapacitated guards.

Merlin stood in the eye of the storm, dead centre of the chaos happening around him, his arms outspread with magic surging from his palms. His eyes glowed a fierce gold as he strained his magic to breaking point. It felt amazing to have free-flowing magic once more, but exhausting. There was no stopping it from unleashing on everything with which it came into contact, it had been caged too long and need to fly free.

The world was nothing but a blur around him, and he could only hope that he'd managed to keep Arthur and the knights safe from the assumed chaos he was causing. The one sight Merlin could focus on was that of Drin, pinned to the wall with an invisible force keeping him still. The man's gaze was fixed on Merlin, wide-eyed and pleading, and the vision of him desperately clawing at anything to get away riled the warlock.

"How? How did you do that? Those manacles were supposed to be suppressing! I don't understand." Drin was stammering, his pallid skin growing paler and paler at his trapped predicament.

"I told you. You underestimated me Drin." Merlin stated, his magic still swirling around the room, though the initial commotion was somewhat dying down.

"Merlin, Merlin, you've got to understand, I'm so much better for you than Arthur. You can see that, can't you? I _accept_ your magic. I won't punish you for it, nor will I keep it hidden." Drin beseeched, his nervous grin twitching, his despairing eyes never leaving Merlin's.

The statement weighed heavily on the room's occupants. Though they all knew it to be the desperate appeal of a condemned man, the words he spoke did hold some truth. Merlin's future in Camelot was uncertain at best. Arthur had flinched at the words; each vile utterance tinging his heart, with what he didn't know, but they hurt.

"You _accept_ my magic?" Merlin whispered, to the room's astonishment. Arthur's stomach was uneasy with worry, his inherent distrust of magic clouding his rationality, unused to seeing it displayed as freely and openly as Merlin was conducting it now.

"Yes, yes! I told you, a position in my court, by my side. You see, Merlin? You can see?" Drin encouraged hopefully.

"You would do nothing with my magic except use it for your own selfish gains. You think yourself better than Arthur? Fairer? More understanding? Well, let me clear that up for you. The injuries I have sustained at Arthur's hand have either been self-inflicted to protect him," the memory of a poisoned goblet followed by a feverish few days flickered in Merlin's mind, "or minor wounds I probably brought on myself." He couldn't but let a smile ghost over his mouth, mirroring that of Arthur's, at the memory of the numerous bruises sustained on patrols, training or just a plain old goblet to the head. Merlin couldn't remember the pain of them, now long forgotten in the recesses of his mind. However, the pain he had suffered over… however long it had been, would stay with him until he took to his grave. "Whereas in the short time I have had the displeasure of knowing you, you have inflicted on me a pain so great I would not wish upon anyone else."

"Now, y-you see, that was just… a test, to test your… strength, and your loyalty. That's it! And you passed. Congratulations Merlin, many a man would've failed." Drin grinned, though obviously fake, not even his face could hide the falseness of the lie.

The force holding Drin in place shifted to his throat, cutting off any more pleas or lies, as well as the air he so needed to live. Drin's hand wrapped around his throat, trying in vain to remove whatever was choking him, as Merlin began to focus all his attention on Drin, a silence filling the room, save for Drin's suffocated gasps.

The knights watched in shock as Drin began to turn purple, clearly running out of both air and time, and all were conflicted. On one hand Merlin had every right to kill Drin, even with magic. However, everyone knew Merlin, and knew what this would do to his conscious. This was the man who felt for the animals killed and eaten by the men, and here he was about to take a life with his bare hands. None could decide whether to intervene or let Merlin carry out his actions.

They needn't have worried much longer as the roof of the room began to cave in, a large chunk of stone landing almost on top of Percival, who only just managed to dodge out of its path. The distraction was enough for Merlin to lose his grip on Drin, who fell to the floor in a spluttering heap. Several more chunks of rock landed between captor and captive, making any kind of focus impossible as they both manoeuvred out of the way of any more missiles falling on them.

After a moment of calm, rocks no longer falling but the ceiling still teetering on the brink of collapse, Merlin flinched at the feel of a solid hand on his shoulder.

"Merlin."

The warlock paused for a moment, his body tensing against the touch. The sight of Drin, though now obscured as he sought refuge behind a large piece of debris, caused Merlin to assess what he had been about to do, and his heart pounded with guilt. It shouldn't have, this was the man who had tortured him, there should be nothing stopping him hurting Drin, but Merlin was torn. The integral good within him was resisting the urge to inflict deliberate pain on another person.

"Don't do this. I know you, and this isn't you." Arthur stood by his words. In all the time he'd known Merlin, he'd never hurt someone intentionally. Many times he'd floored a maid carrying piles of clean laundry with his clumsiness, but never on purpose. It just wasn't Merlin, and Arthur knew what rage and trauma could do to a man. If he let Merlin hurt Drin, he didn't know if Merlin would survive that, at least mentally, but he also didn't know how Merlin exerting himself to the point of killing someone would damage him physically. "Besides, we have to go." He urged, eyes glancing cautiously at the disintegrating ceiling.

"He hurt me Arthur." Merlin sounded like a small boy, as if someone had just broken his favourite toy in front of him. He turned his head to look at Arthur, hints of glowing golden embers still flickering within the ocean of soft blue eyes that were encompassing so much hurt and pain and sadness.

"I know, and for that he shall pay a thousand times over, but this building won't last much longer, not with the way it's crumbling." Arthur's voice was hurried, steadying himself when the reverberations of Merlin's assault tried to throw him off balance.

Merlin's eyes glowed with a resigned acceptance, despite the anger he felt towards the man who, for such a long time as it felt to the warlock, had tortured and beat him, he wasn't convinced he could use his magic so maliciously. Especially not in front of Arthur, who he was desperate to prove his worth to, to make him see that not all magic was used for evil. Hurting or executing Drin in that manner would do nothing, except perhaps give Merlin the satisfaction of knowing that the warlord had felt something akin to Merlin's pain, and he had to consider the way it would be perceived in the King's eyes.

"We can go home?" Merlin felt so tired, so physically and mentally exhausted, and Arthur's heart tore in two at the broken hope that resonated from his servant's voice. Quickly followed by guilt spreading throughout his chest, because he couldn't answer Merlin's question.

Could he take him home? He was a sorcerer. No not sorcerer, _warlock_ , Arthur had to keep reminding himself. Merlin hadn't chosen this life, it had been forced upon him. However, the use of magic was illegal in the entirety of Camelot, and, as had been drilled into him since he was born, no man was above the law.

 _Not even if the law was wrong._

The battle within his conscience was beginning to rear its ugly head once again, but his mind cleared instantly at the sight of Merlin's eyes beginning to roll back into his head. A clear warning sign of the inevitable, Arthur dove forward and just managed to wrap his arm around Merlin's back to prevent him from doing any further damage to himself as he slipped out of consciousness. Though what additional injuries Merlin could sustain, Arthur didn't know, but he knew that the ones he had would need treating immediately.

Until now, Arthur had only seen the damage that Drin had inflicted, but with his arm around Merlin Arthur could _feel_ what had been done. His usually lanky frame was bonier than ever, his ribcage felt awkward and protruding against Arthur, and the heat that was radiating off his skin, a clear sign of infection, was astonishing. Arthur didn't know how the boy was still alive, whether it was a side-effect of his magic, or just the sheer willpower of wanting to survive, but he was alive. Barely.

"Let's go." Arthur nodded to his men, Gwaine already supporting Merlin's other limp side, and was met with no objections.

Finally, after what felt like countless hours manoeuvring through the depths of Drin's castle, and getting lost twice (as for some reason they were being led by a preoccupied Gwaine, whose sense of direction was hazy at the best of times), they finally reached the large oak door they'd been led through on their arrival at this horrific nightmare. One of its hinges had been torn off in the scuffle, leaving it slightly ajar, greeting them with a long overdue sight.

 _Freedom_.

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 **So what did you think?**

 **The first part is over, they're free from the tower, they're on their way back to Camelot and everything's going to be awesome…**

… _ **Or will it? *Cue evil laughter and clichéd lightning***_

 **But seriously guys, I think the pacing speeds up a lot at the end, because I didn't want to write endless paragraphs of escaping the tower, so it kind of happens really quickly and I'm not too sure about it.**

 **Also thank you to mizzymel who pointed out some confusing wording in chapter 3 about Drin's intention, which I'm fixing with this update.**


	13. Of Care and Spells

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **What's this? A new chapter of OSAW, in the same month, let alone week?**

 **I've been busy writing, hooray!**

 **Disclaimer: I have no proper medical knowledge, and I don't speak Old English. That should do me, shouldn't it?**

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It was nightfall outside the castle, pitch black save for the flickering, dwindling candlelight in Drin's torturous cell. There was no time to ponder or reflect on their ordeal, their immediate aim to get as far away as they possibly could in the darkness, and then begin to treat Merlin, who was still limply slumped over Arthur and Gwaine. He was wheezing quite badly, although worryingly so, it was a signal to the men that he was still alive whilst they moved.

The group trekked through the woods that surrounded the castle for about forty-five minutes, forty-five minutes filled with an uncomfortable, unwanted silence now they were minus the usual banal chatter of Merlin. Arthur never thought he'd see the day when he was wishing for Merlin to complain, as he continued to hold him upright. It was no arduous task, Merlin weighed far too little, he wasn't quite sure he needed Gwaine to help him, but he knew he wouldn't get the knight to leave him, no matter what.

Eventually they found a small clearing, just large enough to create a decent sized camp. Percival and Elyan assigned themselves task of fetching firewood, claiming that they had the best eyesight to amble through the woods in the dark. However Arthur thought it was just an excuse to get away from the awkwardness in which they'd travelled. Almost immediately after they had left, Leon proclaimed that he would keep the first watch, even though in the dark in was more like first 'listen out for disturbances', which left Arthur and Gwaine to the task of setting Merlin down so he'd be somewhat comfortable.

Once the knights had returned with a reasonable offering of twigs and kindling, surprising to even themselves that they'd been able to find flammable wood in the dimness, and they'd even managed to find a small stream close by with which they'd filled their flasks, Elyan began assembling the fire. Before he had the chance to light it there was an almost inaudible murmur from Merlin, and the fire sparked and began to oddly spit flames, spluttering and dying, again and again, as Merlin's weakened spell attempted to take hold.

Sooner or later the fire settled into a natural flicker, and Arthur and Gwaine were immediately by Merlin's side, Elyan and Percival watching from close by. Merlin was stirring but only just, his eyes, now fading back to blue, were unfocused, and he was mumbling something incoherently, groans intermittently escaping from his mouth.

"Merlin, you're safe, no one's going to hurt you anymore." Arthur reassured him.

"Arthur. Used magic, lit fire." Merlin slurred with a sense of panic. His head was foggy at best, and he had no idea how Arthur would react to such a blatant use of magic directly in front of him.

"Don't do it again Merlin," Arthur's worry was met by a cold stare of Gwaine's, "I don't want you pushing yourself when you're already so hurt." Arthur pointed the words at Gwaine, whose expression relaxed slightly. He knew that Merlin was injured, and badly. He wasn't sure if exerting that much power had made things worse with the warlock's body, but then again, he hadn't been in the best of shape before that.

"Sore." Merlin croaked, his eyes screwed shut, clearly trying to hide how much pain he was actually in from the knights and Arthur.

"I know." Arthur hushed him, having no idea how he was feeling, Merlin had clearly suffered much more than Arthur ever had in his life. As he spoke, Merlin blacked out again, and for a heart-wrenching moment Arthur worried that the unspeakable had happened, until he caught the slight shudder of Merlin's chest and the sound of his laboured breath. Laboured, but there. "Gwaine we need to help him." He looked up at the knight.

"You're telling me." Gwaine breathed, not knowing where to start. "I don't know what to do though, Merlin's the physician's assistant, how much medical knowledge have we got?"

"Enough to help him," Arthur stressed, "Percival, can I have your flask?" Percival nodded and handed his now full flask to Arthur, who set it down on the ground next to him. "Even I know we need to clean the blood off him." Arthur began to tear strips from his shirt, hoping they were clean enough from however long they'd spent in the tower to cleanse Merlin wounds.

Everyone else began to do the same, and soon they had a pile of cloth strips, which Arthur then began to wet and tentatively wash away the blood and grime from Merlin's torso. The sight beneath was no better than the before, his chest and stomach covered with red inflamed marks, a stark contrast to the yellowy green bruises adorning his abdomen. Once he'd quelled the horror he was feeling, he laid fresh cloth over the wounds, hoping that now they'd been treated, albeit primitively, they'd begin their healing process.

He did the same on Merlin's wrists, though the wounds appeared slightly differently. They had gashes in them from where the manacles had rubbed his skin raw, but there also appeared to be burns on them.

"Did the cuffs do this to him?" Gwaine asked.

"I think so, they were magic suppressing and he broke them off. I can't think of any other reason they'd look like this." Arthur ran his hand through his hair, adding one more injury to the ever growing list he was going to inflict on Drin when they caught him. And they would catch him, Arthur would make sure of it.

Remembering the stab wound, he rolled Merlin carefully onto his least bruised side, so he could gain access to his shoulder. It looked much the same as the others, only larger and clearly deeper. Once that was as clean and dressed as it could be, they carefully laid him on his back.

"Gwaine, can you put a couple of those on his forehead?" Arthur had had to steel his resolve when he'd felt the heat coming off Merlin's feverish skin. He'd seen numerous patients with damp cloths on their foreheads, probably to cool them, who'd been treated by Gaius.

Gwaine laid the damp cloths on his forehead, then leapt almost a foot in the air when Merlin opened his eyes. They were unfocussed and rapidly moving, like that of a sleepwalker's, but what was most alarming was that they were glowing gold.

" _Æledfýr ád… bate… ádl ályne… blódseten…_ " Merlin was mumbling incoherently, his words having little effect on anything. The most he managed was for the fire to flicker a little, as if a small gust of wind had blown through it and warped the flames.

"What do you think he's trying to do?" Arthur peered at the warlock, whose eyes had closed once more but his mouth was still moving, mouthing words unknown to their ears.

"I don't know, maybe he's trying to heal himself." Gwaine guessed, as nothing but the fire had been disturbed in any way.

"He's probably causing more damage than good, the state he's in." Arthur sighed, him and Gwaine sitting down next to the fire, finally allowing themselves a moment of rest. It felt good to move their focus onto the fire instead of constantly watching Merlin sleep and mumble.

"How did we end up here, barely a scratch on us, and Merlin's like this?" Gwaine bemoaned, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop himself running back to that castle and running Drin through with his sword – after torturing him exactly as he'd tortured Merlin. Arthur would have to join the queue of people who wanted to hurt Drin

"He did more than could ever be expected of him." Arthur breathed, the shock hitting him all over again now he'd had time to digest what had happened to Merlin, and the ordeal he'd suffered. Arthur had been lamenting the fact that they had nothing to protect Merlin's exposed, wounded torso from the elements, settling for keeping him close to the fire.

He wasn't quite sure what to do, he knew that he needed to keep Merlin cool to fight off the fever gripping his body, but they also needed to prevent him from catching a chill. That was one, amongst others, that Arthur wasn't sure of. Namely Merlin's rib, which was clearly in need of some kind of treatment, but as to what neither of the men had a clue.

Gaius would know what to do. Gaius could give him something to ease the pain as well. Gaius would have clean bandages, and herbs to prevent further infection. Damn, they really needed Gaius right now. Though one uneasy thought did keet popping up in his head:

' _Taking him to Gaius means bringing him back to Camelot.'_

* * *

 **Ooh.**

 **Anyway, 14 is half-done and 15 has got one of two scenes written, and I'm not sure after that.**

 **I'm reconsidering the plot (again). I don't know whether to run it to about 20 like I sort of planned (this was supposed to be a six chapter story to ease me into multi-chapter stories. Yeah, I know), or to build a new story arc into it. Another option I'm considering is a sequel.**

 **I don't know.**

 ***Facepalm***

 **P.S: At the moment I post this, we are 578 views off 25,000. Extremely big thank you!**


	14. Of Revelations and Fear

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **So there was a bit of a delay with this chapter.**

 _ **The tone wasn't quite right, the dialogue was clunky, the tone wasn't right again, the characters were too out of character…**_

 **I had a fight with Word (basically lost 500+ words due to me being an idiot), and I got struck down with one of those niggly colds that won't properly go away and, weirdly, a ton of self-doubt. I think because I've been trying to write out the next few chapters and they just seem pretty aimless, and the setting has really changed all of a sudden. It's a lot easier to write when there's just that one place they've been in since chapter 1.**

 **I know this is a cliché, but your reviews really do mean a lot to me, they really helped spur me on to edit and publish this.**

* * *

Arthur's contemplation was interrupted with the changing of guards, Leon switching places with Percival who was taking up vigilance by one of the trees that offered the most protection. Both Leon and Elyan were quick to fall asleep, exhausted and hungry from their efforts and their ordeal. None of them had slept nor eaten particularly well whilst being held by Drin, they'd received the same rations as Merlin, murky water and desiccated bread, and they had travelled at quite a pace to cover enough ground in an effort to evade recapture whilst they rested. However, even in their tiredness, Arthur and Gwaine couldn't bear to sleep when Merlin could worsen at any time.

"What now?" Gwaine scanned Merlin for any more injuries that would need treatment, but to his relief could see none.

"Now we wait. We can't do anything else for him with what little we've got. He needs someone who knows what they're doing."

 _We need Gaius._

The thought wouldn't leave Arthur's head, especially as he glanced over to Merlin who'd grown silent, save for the haggard breaths coming in and out of his mouth.

"Then I believe this is where we part ways." Gwaine uttered, staring thoughtfully into the dwindling flicker of orange flames as the fire died away. Daybreak was dawning, the darkened sky becoming a calming blend of orange, pink and blue pastels, and the sun was beginning to rise, warming the land. "I'm grateful to you for treating him and helping to get him away from that wretched place, but I can take him now." Gwaine nodded at Arthur. He'd been surprised when Arthur had caught Merlin when he'd first collapsed and helped Gwaine carry him out of the tower without a word, and even more so when Arthur had begun to treat Merlin's wounds, neither of them physicians.

"And you're going… where?" Arthur was incredulous, believing Gwaine wouldn't last five miles carrying Merlin on his own, with no supplies or an idea about where he was going.

"To Ealdor I think, he has family there, does he not?" Gwaine's tone was far too nonchalant for Arthur's liking; he was treating this as if it were any other conversation, and not the fate of their friend.

"He does." Arthur gave a slight nod, reluctant to carry on the conversation. "But he needs the knowledge of a physician. You know that Gaius is the best physician for miles." It was the truth that Gaius was considered one of the most knowledgeable physicians of his time, and he also knew how strong the relationship was between Merlin and Gaius. The old man wouldn't forgive Arthur if he came home and recounted the tale, only to reveal he'd left Merlin with Gwaine to make the arduous journey to Ealdor, where he'd receive basic medical care at best, with their supplies gravely lacking.

"Then Gaius can be sent for to come to Ealdor, he may be elderly but I'm sure he can make the journey." Gwaine countered, waiting for Arthur's next move.

"How are you two going to get there? I'm assuming Merlin's navigating." Arthur slightly regretted the throwaway comment he'd made, but it was the truth. Merlin would be next to useless at walking, let alone keeping track of where they were and pointing Gwaine in the right direction.

"You think I never passed by Ealdor on my travels?" Gwaine smirked, cocking his head.

"And tell me, oh mighty traveller, how you're going to get to Ealdor from wherever the hell we are?" Arthur disparaged, thinking his knight to be delusional.

"No," Gwaine emphasized pointedly, "I'm going to ask someone when we get to the nearest village." His tone was deliberately slow and provoking, as if speaking to a small child, which only sought to wind the king up further.

"The next village could be three days walk!" Arthur exploded in exasperation, surprised his outburst didn't wake the sleeping knights, nor alert Percival.

"So could Camelot! There could be a village half an hour's walk from here." Gwaine retorted with equal temper. He continued after a beat, letting the air settle. "All I want is for Merlin to be safe." Gwaine emphasised his seriousness, stressing the word 'safe', another blow straight to Arthur's chest.

"Safe?" Arthur repeated numbly, the implication of the word hanging thickly in the air. "Do you think Ealdor is the better choice for him than Camelot? You think he'd be safer in _Cenred's_ lands than mine?"

Every word Gwaine spoke made sense. If Merlin returned to Ealdor then Arthur wouldn't have to make the anguishing decision about his fate, neither option, be it banishment or pretence, were particularly inviting. But Gwaine wanted to take Merlin away from him, something Arthur knew he couldn't let happen. He still had to have that long discussion with Merlin about his magic, he was intrigued and beguiled by the servant, and he wanted to repair their damaged relationship so badly. He didn't want to lose Merlin, the thought of living day to day without his smart remarks and infectious grin didn't bear thinking about.

"I do. Until you prove me otherwise, and assure his safety, I do." Arthur simply scoffed and shook his head. "Just let me ask you something princess; throughout this whole ordeal, did you ever consider executing Merlin?" Gwaine looked at Arthur, already knowing the answer but he wanted the king to acknowledge that Gwaine wasn't acting on a personal vendetta, or trying to hurt him, but that he was doing this for Merlin and his safety.

Arthur looked crestfallen, his shameful silence speaking a thousand words. The thought had crossed his mind for a fleeting moment in his hurt and anger when Merlin had first been outed, but he'd banished it to the depths of mind. Nevertheless, it had been there.

"Then you know that I can't leave him with you, I have to take him away from Camelot, away from your authority." Gwaine gave Arthur an imploring look, running a hand through his dark locks. "What's to say one day you won't just snap and have him hung? Or burnt?" The worry for Merlin was evident in his eyes, but Arthur wouldn't accept Gwaine's reasoning.

"Look, the thought of Merlin's…" Arthur couldn't follow Merlin's name with 'execution', he just couldn't. "The thought was momentary and I was angry, I didn't mean…" Arthur didn't know why he was trying to explain himself to Gwaine, he was the king after all, and could simply order the two of them to return to Camelot with him. However, he knew in his heart that he would not win Gwaine with commands.

"But you thought it Arthur!" Gwaine shot back, and Arthur was stunned to hear him call him Arthur. It was an extremely rare occurrence, emphasizing the severity of their situation. "Yes, it may have been in your mind for only a second, but what's to stop it happening again, when you've got an army at your disposal? You can't take it back if he's dead."

"I would never!" Arthur was incensed at the accusation. He knew deep in his heart he could never hurt Merlin; the most he'd considered was banishment for life. Apart from that fraction of a second he'd never be able to take back. Arthur was not going to lose Merlin over half a second of stupid thought.

"Really?" Gwaine pushed. "And how can you be so sure of that?"

"Because he's my friend! I don't care that he has magic." The words slipped out of Arthur's mouth before his brain had time to catch up, leaving the king stunned as the thought slowly sunk in. _I can't let him go._ "I don't care… that he has magic." Arthur repeated, confirming it to himself, and to Gwaine.

"You're serious?" Gwaine squinted at the king, trying to judge whether we was telling the truth or if this was just some kind of elaborate deception.

"I am." Arthur nodded with a heavy breath. "If there's one thing I know, it's Merlin, even if he kept something this big a secret. There's just one thing that I still can't get my head around."

"What's that?" Gwaine mused.

"Those manacles, they were suppressing his magic, that's why he couldn't fight back against Drin. I've seen those manacles before, my father kept an abundance of them in the cells." Arthur purposely ignored the indignant looking Gwaine was giving him. "Not once did a sorcerer break free from them. They prevent any kind of spells or enchantments from taking hold."

"But Merlin did." Gwaine finished, shaking his head out of utter amazement. "He must be more powerful than we imagined."

"I can't believe it, all this time. He's been hiding away all this time." There was a note of sorrow in the king's voice. "It makes you wonder all the things he's…"

"Shh!" The king was silenced by Gwaine raising his hand, though Arthur was so caught up in his moment of realisation he didn't immediately clock the growing panic in Gwaine's eyes.

"Gwaine, may I remind you that I am the king of Camelot, and you better not have-" Arthur growled, but was unceremoniously shushed once more, however this time took note of Gwaine's dread.

The king and his knight turned around in sync as they both noticed the absence of a certain sound that had been filling the air for the last couple of hours. The horrific reality dawned on them as they reached the body lying next to the fire.

 _Merlin wasn't breathing anymore._

* * *

 **I'm a horrible person and I know it.**

 **On the bright side, Arthur's less of a prat, and I am going to release 15 almost immediately, so you know, swings and roundabouts, right?**

 ***runs and hides from angry mob***


	15. Of Hearts and Death

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **This has been upload in a double update – if you haven't read chapter 14, go back and read that now, or you're in for one big spoiler.**

 _ **Disclaimer: No actual real medical knowledge. Only trusty google.**_

* * *

"Merlin?" The word came out so quietly, no more than a breath in the wind, that neither of the men knew who'd actually said it.

They remained momentarily in a silent horror until Arthur managed to propel himself forwards, some unknown inner strength shining through, and lean over Merlin. His body was still warm to the touch, which Arthur prayed was a sign Merlin was still alive, but his prayers fell on deaf ears as he leant his head down to listen to Merlin's heartbeat, or at least where Merlin's heartbeat should've been. There was nothing.

"Well?" Gwaine breathed, already fearing the answer, unable to fully come to terms with what was happening. Arthur's face told him everything he needed to know when he finally looked up, a pure mixture of shock and painful grief.

"He can't be. He just can't. You've got it wrong Arthur." Gwaine laughed, though the sound was something unnatural and hysteric. He too placed his head on Merlin's chest, expecting to hear the dull thud every man should have in his chest. He too could hear nothing. "No, Merlin, wake up. Please, come on, wake up now. Wake up!" Gwaine choked out, a boulder forming itself in his throat, as he softly tapped on the side of Merlin's face, trying in vain to rouse him.

Gwaine's bluster had been enough to wake the knights, and to alert Percival; the large man crashing back into camp, brandishing his sword liberated from an unconscious mercenary. However he froze at the sight before him - Arthur and Gwaine knelt by a very still, very quiet Merlin, with Gwaine repeatedly demanding the warlock wake up.

"I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. I should have gotten you out, should've fought harder, I shouldn't have turned my back on you Merlin." Arthur breathed, unable to stop the apologies tumbling from his mouth.

"What happened?" Elyan faltered, as he found himself lacking the ability to properly form the words.

"He was here, and then he wasn't." Arthur was staring off into the woods, the sight of Merlin adding to the crushing guilt and hurt. "We're going to have to tell Gaius, this'll wreck him." An agonising pain was overtaking the numbness of Arthur's shock, the thought of bringing such news to Merlin's adoptive father made him nauseous.

The group stood in a mournful silence for a moment, no one sure of when to speak or what could possibly be said. That was until Gwaine almost fell over.

"Did his chest move?" Gwaine's voice carried an unrivalled sense of hope as he was by Merlin once more, placing his hand on Merlin's chest, praying for something as slight as a shudder. It felt as though his chest was rising and falling, but Gwaine couldn't be sure if he was mistaking breath for the shake of his hand.

"You're just seeing things Gwaine, he's…" Leon tried to place a comforting hand on Gwaine's shoulder, but it was shrugged off.

"No it did! Merlin! Merlin can you hear me?" Gwaine searched Merlin's face for any sign of life.

"Gwaine…" Percival tried, kneeling next to Gwaine, hoping to speak some sense into him.

"Just look! There's still a slight breath." Gwaine was sure that Merlin was still breathing, though it was so slight they could've easily missed it.

"His heart's stopped, there's no way…" Arthur didn't hear Leon finish his sentence. Instead, he was struck in a moment of epiphany, recalling a memory from long ago. _Could he really do that? Would it work?_ His stomach turned at the thought, but he also realised that he couldn't forgive himself if he didn't try.

So Arthur moved in front of Gwaine, kneeling as close to Merlin as he could. He steadied himself and took in a hesitant breath, then reluctantly balled his hand into a shaky fist and thumped it against Merlin's chest.

"What the hell are you doing to him?" Gwaine seethed, pulling Arthur away from Merlin almost immediately afterwards.

"Trying to save him! I once saw Gaius attempt this with a man who'd collapsed at court. We all thought him to be dead, but Gaius hit his heart and he awoke. We'd never seen anything like it, and he told us that this didn't always work, but if you could restart the heart then you had a better chance of saving the man."

"It's true, I've heard about it before." Percival nodded, deep in contemplation. "I've never seen it myself, but there was a rumour that an elderly man from my village had been revived when he was a boy and fell into a river."

"Will it work?" Gwaine paced, having released his grip on Arthur but eyeing everyone suspiciously. Percival was notably silent, refusing to catch Gwaine's eye. "Or will it just hurt him further?"

"I don't know, Gwaine, but he's on the brink of death. I don't do this, he dies. I do do this, he might live. But it has to be soon, or he'll stay dead." Arthur was imploring to Gwaine. "Let me try. Please." Arthur's eyes were desperate, and Gwaine was beginning to realise the seriousness of the king. He had had his doubts, even with Arthur's revelation a few moments earlier, that the king was still suspicious of Merlin and his magic. But now? Now Gwaine could see, Arthur did not want Merlin to die, and he was frantic in his efforts to keep the boy alive, at all costs.

"Ok, but this better work or I swear to god…" Gwaine's finger remained pointed at Arthur, but his threat died away.

Arthur resumed his position kneeling over Merlin, cupped his hand into a fist and placed it on his chest. He was no doctor, but he had a rough idea of where a man's heart lay. "Forgive me." Arthur whispered in a voice so low no one but him or Merlin if he were awake could hear. He raised his hand and struck him once more, wincing at the sound. He repeated the action, then pressed an ear against Merlin's chest. He could hear nothing but the hollow silence that came from within. "Come on, Merlin. Wake up." Arthur readied himself, then dealt another blow, only this time it was met by a deep gasp and a low groan from the body beneath him.

"Arthur?" Merlin gasped out, and immediately tried to sit up. Arthur placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, keeping him still.

"Don't try and move. Just stay still for a bit, please?" Arthur grinned, a smile so full of relief and joy that Merlin couldn't help but smile back.

"Alright." Merlin nodded, but kept his head tilted so he could see everyone. "What happened?"

"When?" Arthur asked softly, half hoping Merlin might have forgotten the events of the tower.

"Just now. I was asleep, I think. Then I woke up for a moment, then I was asleep again and then… I wasn't." Merlin's voice was slightly slurred. He was still not fully awake, and still in quite a lot of pain, but more conscious than he had been for a while.

"You kind of… um well, you see… died." Arthur stammered awkwardly. He'd never had to tell a person they'd been dead and now they weren't before.

"Died?" Merlin's eyes widened.

"Yes. I hit your chest a bit and you woke up." Arthur shrugged as if he'd performed the most trivial thing.

"…You restarted my heart? _You_?"

"Don't sound so surprised Merlin, I do actually have a brain in my head you know." Merlin chuckled, wincing as it stung his injuries, but he didn't care. He was alive and Arthur was making jokes. His magic was out in the open, he was alive and Arthur was making jokes. Nothing could be better.

"Thanks." Merlin grinned, unsure if that was enough to relay his gratitude. "I suppose we better get going." He propped himself up slowly onto his elbows.

"Going?" Arthur frowned.

"Yes Arthur. Unless you'd like to become a hermit and live in the woods forever, in which case you need your head looking at because it's freezing, then I suggest we make a move for Camelot." Merlin's smile had become wide and toothy. "You don't care I have magic, I seem to recall." Merlin had lowered his voice, so he was talking solely to Arthur.

"You heard?" Arthur offered a weak smile in return.

"I was hoping it wasn't some feverish dream. Speaking of which, you got any water?" Arthur handed him a flask, and he immediately drank most of its contents. "I woke up just as you were fighting with Gwaine. Then everything when blank." He paused for a moment. "You meant it, didn't you?" He asked worriedly.

"I did." Arthur nodded soberly. "But don't think I've let you off telling me about everything as soon as you're well again. Everything, I mean it Merlin."

"Deal." Merlin grinned. "Come on, help me up."

"Are you sure?" Merlin nodded and Arthur grabbed his outstretched hand, helping Merlin to his feet, then put a supportive arm around him, ensuring he was as steady as he could be before making any attempts at walking.

"You alright Gwaine?" Merlin smiled, completely unaware of the panic and grief he'd created amongst the knights not thirty minutes earlier.

"What me? Never better mate." Gwaine chuckled, though his breath still shaky and his heart was beating a million miles an hour. Percival glanced at Gwaine, raising his eyebrows.

"He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." Percival whispered, leaning in towards Gwaine.

"Arthur brought him back." Gwaine shrugged, though his lips held a knowing smirk.

"But you saw that he was alive. You should say something." Percival motioned towards Arthur and Merlin, hobbling along the barely there track, the sound of Merlin's yelps of 'mind the rib' and Arthur's crowing 'I told you so' echoing through the woods.

"Nah, let them have their moment." Gwaine smiled, and for the first time in what felt like a hell of a long time, he could see a bright future for all of them.

"What do you know?" Percival nudged Gwaine slightly. "Sir Gwaine does have some humility after all."

* * *

 **So yeah, that just happened.**

 **I had that idea for ages, basically when I rejigged the plot, I hope it wasn't too much of a downer.**

 **Let me know what you think.**


	16. Of Villages and Physicians

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Yay new chapter! I'm so happy with the response of the last update! I was so worried you'd all hate it, but it seems to have gone down ok! Apologies for any heart attacks caused at the end of 14, but I just had to do it *** _ **evil laughter**_ *****

 **There's going to be about 20 chapters total, I'm currently shuffling chunks of text between chapters to kind of even them out.**

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None of the knights, nor Arthur himself would've ever thought they'd be relieved to once again be enveloped in Merlin's chatter, even if it was still slightly nonsensical and interspersed with gaps. After around an hour of wandering through the woods, still none the wiser of where they actually were, they came across a small, rural village. It contained around ten houses, surrounded by a few outbuildings, and circled around a small dusty patch of land, clearly the village square.

Sat on a bench outside one of the houses was a middle aged woman folding laundry into a wicker basket. Arthur and the knights had clearly made enough commotion hobbling into to the village to attract her attention, as she was now headed towards them; her abandoned laundry the furthest thought from her mind. Clapping eyes on the King of Camelot, along with a quartet of knights and one severely injured manservant, she let out a small gasp.

"King Arthur?" She mouthed silently, mostly to herself in disbelief.

"Can you help us please? My friend here needs urgent care." Arthur was still supporting Merlin, and though some of the weight had been alleviated by Gwaine, his arm was beginning to take the strain and his muscles had been tensing up for the last ten minutes or so.

"I'm not that bad." Merlin protested. The woman was clearly still in awe but was trying to check how coherent Merlin was, introducing herself as Katherine. She was also firmly resisting Merlin's protests of 'don't worry' and 'I'll be OK'.

"You were dead five minutes ago, so I'm sorry if I feel you need to at least sit down for a bit." Arthur shot Merlin a glare, pointless as it was, as his head was drooped low, and he was pretty sure the warlock had his eyes closed. "Please excuse him, he's had a… difficult time recently. Can I ask where we are?"

"You're in Redferran." Arthur's bemused stare caused her to elaborate. "In the low-lying lands between Camelot and Cenred's kingdom."

"That means we're about a day's ride from the castle." Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, still not totally sure where they were, but he now had a vague idea. Arthur also realised they were around two days ride from Ealdor, a tiny part of him feeling a smug satisfaction over Gwaine.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, puzzled as to why royalty would be in their tiny village, disheveled as they were.

"It's a very long story, do you have a physician Merlin could see?"

"Petch is our resident healer, though I don't know how much he can do for you. He usually deals with people needing herbal remedies; headaches, joint pain, that kind of thing." Katherine sighed. "I wish we could be more of a help to you."

"Any help at all would be greatly appreciated, even it's only something for his pain."

"Come with me then." Katherine motioned to them and led the group to one of the houses, slightly larger than most of them, then proceeded to bang roughly on the withered door.

"Petch!" She yelled, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently.

"Can't an old man have a moment's peace?" The reply came from within the house, and despite the outburst he was clearly shuffling towards the door.

"We have visitors! Royal ones at that!" Katherine called out, her annoyance clear. "Forgive my uncle, he gets cranky sometimes. Don't let that put you off." She smiled sympathetically, rolling her eyes as the man inside was muttering under his breath.

"Don't be daft child, no one-" The door swung open, and there stood an elderly man, not dissimilar to Gaius. His face was wrinkled with the passage of time and his white hair just touched upon his shoulders, however he was very much gaunter than Gaius and sported a wispy beard, with pince-nez spectacles perched on his nose. " _King Arthur?_ " The man clearly could not stop himself from echoing his niece.

"The boy needs your help." Katherine motioned to Merlin, who despite his bravado was weakly clutching at Gwaine. The physician's demeanour changed instantly upon the sight of him.

"Yes, yes of course, come in, come in." Petch ushered the men inside, whilst Katherine made her excuses and left. He led them through the house to a room resembling Gaius' quarters, only larger and with a few more beds for patients.

The place was empty, save for them, and Petch embarrassedly cleared a bed for Merlin, removing books and empty vials. "I don't often have patients who need the beds. Everyone lives ten foot away." He chuckled softly, before sobering. "What happened to him?"

No one was quite sure where to start their tale, or to explain what had happened to Merlin, and nearly everyone was taken by surprise when Merlin let out a low groan, followed by a list of his ailments.

"I've got multiple cuts that need disinfecting, I think my rib is displaced, the bruising is healing but it's still rather painful, there's a stab wound on my left shoulder that bled for a long time, so I reckon I've had some blood loss, and oh, my heart stopped." After recounting his wounds, Merlin rested his head back against the bed, revelling in the feeling of the cotton sheet beneath him, no more hard stone or solid earth.

"Your heart stopped?" Petch sounded equally morbidly intrigued and downright cynical, which didn't surprise them at all. It was doubtful that something as miraculous would ever happen again in their lifetimes.

"Yes, Arthur started it again. I know, I couldn't believe it myself either." Merlin let out a soft laugh.

"You managed to restart the heart? Through force upon the chest?" Petch mimed punching himself where his heart was located, to which Arthur nodded. "I've never seen it applied successfully. Congratulations, your majesty." His tone was one of pure amazement.

"Just Arthur is fine. You're going to help Merlin, of which we are so grateful, so please, just Arthur." Arthur iterated, sounding humbler than he'd ever done before.

"Well Arthur, the sentiments still apply. You had Lady Luck on your side, that's for sure." He moved towards Merlin, looking over the wounds on his torso and his shoulder, slowly removing Arthur's makeshift bandages, the white now an unappealing shade of orangey red. "You did good cleaning these with what you had, it definitely prevented them getting any worse." Petch nodded appreciatively towards Arthur. "I can redress these and give you something to fight the infection," He placed the back of his hand against Merlin forehead, "and that fever. I think I've got some arnica for the bruising, it should help take the edge off." He then looked over Merlin's rib. "If you intend to make haste towards Camelot, I can't do anything for your rib but offer pain management. It'd be better off treated in Camelot."

"Makes sense." Merlin nodded in agreement, and Petch began the task of soaking bandages in some kind of salve at his workbench.

"You sure know your stuff, boy. You're a physician?" Merlin shook his head as Petch began to bandage his stomach and shoulder, alternating between soaked and dry cloth, and cleaning some of the smaller cuts across his chest and up his neck whilst he worked.

"I live with one. I've picked up some stuff from working with him." Merlin sighed as every muscle was protesting even the slightest movement; how he'd managed to stumble from their makeshift camp to the village, he didn't know.

"It's good knowledge to have. Everyone's going to get sick or injured at some point. I learnt from my uncle, he was the physician here until he died. I was useless with my hands, but found I had quite a good memory when I started mixing remedies with my uncle." Petch had begun to grind various herbs and liquids in a mortar, until he had a pale green concoction. "Still I suppose servicing Camelot is a lot different than caring for our humble little village." He shrugged, transporting the mixture into a wooden cup and handing it to Merlin. "For the pain and the infection. I've mixed it with water as well which should help some of your dehydration."

"It smells better than Gaius' potions." Merlin mused, before drinking it in one go. Instantly his expression changed to one of disgust, a familiar sight upon both Gaius' and Petch's patients alike after tasting one of their medicines. "Still tastes as awful as them though."

"There's onion, garlic, salts and a few ingredients you probably don't want to think about." Petch smiled apologetically, causing Merlin to chuckle. He'd once eyed the contents of Gaius' shelves and regretted it ever since. He was beginning to feel overcome with drowsiness, his eyelids growing heavy as he mumbled something incoherent before falling completely asleep.

"Merlin?" Arthur panicked, seeing Merlin draped over the table, looking quite possibly dead. "What did you do?" He pointed an accusatory finger at Petch.

"Calm yourselves, nothing more than a light sleeping draught as well as a pain remedy. Look." He gestured to Merlin, quite clearly asleep as appose to dead. "His body needs to heal and it can do that easier if he's asleep. I don't have the supplies to make a proper draught though, he'll not be out for long."

"I'm sorry-" Arthur began, but Petch waved off the comment.

"You are tired and worried for your friend, I understand why you'd jump to conclusions like that. The mind can play all sorts of tricks when under serious stress." Petch placed his hand on Arthur's shoulder, giving him an affirming nod. "Come, there's stew in the pot, and I can look over any injuries you have." He raised an eyebrow at the state of Arthur's wrists, not nearly as bad as Merlin's, but still red and painful.

"That's not necessary, I'm sure Merlin-" Arthur started, but Petch would have none of it.

"Merlin needs rest, what little I can give him, so there's nothing stopping me from treating you. I'm pretty sure you weren't going to tell me about your wrists." Petch gave him a knowing look, a look that could often be found adorning Gaius' face, making Arthur wonder if it was a trait of all physicians. "I've seen people with minor injuries when they're with someone as bad as your friend. They never want treatment, even when they need it. You'll be no good to Merlin if you get an infection."

Petch began spooning stew into bowls for Arthur and the knights, which they all took gratefully. None could remember the last hot meal they'd had. No sooner had they been given them, they finished it all, causing a chuckle from Petch.

"I'm assuming you're not holidaying in Redferran?" Petch mused as he began mixing something with which to soothe their wrists.

"No, we… were captured." Arthur sighed, embarrassed and defeated by the whole situation.

"I gathered." Petch glanced over at Merlin, his breathing slightly improved but still throaty and gasping. "What were they after?"

The men shared glances between them, unsure of how much they should share, worried about revealing Merlin's secret to anyone who could be trusted. However their decision was cut short as they heard familiar mumblings coming from the bed, and one of Petch's empty glass beakers toppled to the floor, smashing on impact.

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 **Are you guys liking this chapter? I wanted a little diversion before Camelot, and a twist on Merlin's care, rather than have everything done by Gaius.**

 **Also, I have a question for all my readers. I have tentatively written about half of chapter 1 for an OSAW sequel, are you guys interested in this story continuing? Or would you like to see something new? I have a number of one-shots that need finishing and also quite a few half thought out series that I could start. The sequel wouldn't be published immediately, there'd be a bit of a gap whilst I worked out a comprehensive storyline (instead of changing the plot every two minutes).**

 **Let me know!**


	17. Of Healing and Loss

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **I am on a roll with these chapters! I'm finding it difficult to stop writing, so I hope you're enjoying the longer chapters.**

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"Did the lad just…?" Petch pointed at Merlin, then at the glass shards littering the floor.

The room filled with various protests of 'No, I'm sure there must be some kind of draft', making it perfectly obvious to Petch that it was in fact Merlin who'd caused the beaker to fall. What astounded him was that a Pendragon, the family famed for persecuting magic, was covering for a sorcerer. Whilst there had been talk that there were far fewer executions and pursuit of magic wielders under Arthur's rule, he'd never have imagined that he'd be such close friends with someone who practised magic.

"He has magic." The sentence reiterated Petch's understand, and was said in such a tone which commanding no more lying to him. There was a kind of neutrality in the lowlands about magic, it was neither revered nor oppressed; it just existed, part of life.

"He does." Gwaine nodded, seeing no reason to lie about it now, there was no reason for the beaker to fall on it's own. He had been worried about Merlin when they'd first made camp, the way he made the fire flicker, and now the beaker. He knew Merlin was not a destructive person, but he didn't seem to know what he was doing with his magic at the moment.

"You didn't think was pertinent knowledge to give to a physician treating him?" Petch frowned, as if he were chastising schoolchildren.

"We didn't. Magic isn't exactly something you go around telling everyone about." Arthur darted his eyes away from Petch, worried that his insecurities were showing through once more.

"Especially from someone like yourself, I would imagine." Petch's tone didn't exactly hold judgement, but it was far from unbiased.

"Do you know about magic?" Arthur changed the subject, hoping he could shed some light on what Merlin was doing.

"A small amount, I've had dealings in the past with sorcerers." Petch bit his lip, unsure if he should tell them more. "Many passed through whilst leaving Camelot, on their way to other lands."

"And you're okay with him?" Arthur's eyes glanced nervously from Petch to Merlin.

"If you're asking iam I going to tell anyone about him, or try to kill him, then the answer is no. Magic is just something else to work with, like an extra limb." Gwaine had to stop himself bursting out laughing at the mental image of Merlin with three legs that was currently floating around inside his head.

"Why hasn't he healed himself?" Leon pondered, up until now being his usual quiet self. His opinions on magic were mixed, but what little he'd had first-hand experience with was when the druids had healed him. He'd heard of sorcerers whose only use of magic was to heal people with, so he was confused as to why Merlin was still so ill. Petch thought for a moment, then got up and cast his eyes over Merlin once more.

"It's true, the boy's injuries have progressed as they would in an ordinary man. They should be far more healed if he's had the assistance of magic." He was paying more attention to the burns and cuts on his wrists. "He was suppressed, I take it? For how long?"

"We think we were there about four days. They took Merlin almost straight away, and I assume they cuffed him from then." Petch opened one of Merlin's eyes, watching the gold flickering through like an extinguishing fire.

"He's trying to do something. I've never seen someone who would attempt spells through unconsciousness. He must be powerful." Petch paused. "Am I right in saying Merlin here was what these people wanted?"

"Person. One person. He wanted the throne of Camelot, and thought Merlin would be perfect as a weapon." Arthur clenched his jaw, the mere thought of Drin making his blood boil.

"And I take it he did not succeed?"

"No, Merlin wouldn't give himself over to Drin no matter what." Gwaine smiled, pride and awe shining through.

"Drin?" Petch spat. "That bloody despot did this?" The physician had suddenly turned angry.

"You know him?" Arthur sat up.

"Unfortunately. For a long time he tried to form a coup and create a kingdom here in the lowlands. It was just him and his small gang of thugs, which all the villages managed to resist. The lowlands is not a kingdom, we support ourselves within our villages; we take care of ourselves. Eventually he just stopped trying and I believe he took up residence in a tower somewhere west. That was the last I heard of him, I assumed he'd died."

"It seems not, now it's him and a band of mercenaries, and he's angling for Camelot's throne." Petch let out a guffaw.

"He thinks he can take over _Camelot_? He couldn't even oust Redferran! You tell me everything, from the beginning." Petch continued working at his desk, but wore a steely expression that demanded answers.

They all began to recount the tale, each knight adding in extra facts, until they had a comprehensive story. It was lucky Merlin was out cold, the trauma recounted enough to make even the strongest man's stomach turn.

"…and Merlin practically collapsed that tower when we broke out." Arthur concluded.

"Broke out? How did you manage that?" Petch's ears were pricked, intrigued and bemused how they'd manage to escape such captivity.

"Merlin broke free from the supressing cuffs." Percival stammered, still unsure of Merlin had actually managed that.

"He did what?" Petch was wide eyed and alert, nearly knocking over most of his work when the pestle fell from his agape hand.

"I don't know how strong they were, if they were weakened…" Elyan thought aloud, applying his limited blacksmith knowledge.

"Let me tell you all something. His wrists bear the marks of strong manacles, both physically and magically. The burns are a common symptom, it's how the metal reacts when in contact with the energy produced from trying to summon magic. The amount of burns are consistent with roughly four days usage, but if the cuffs broke easily then there'd be less burning."

"Because they would be weaker and less effective?" Arthur finished.

"Yes. Those cuffs were not weakened. There's no way he should've been able to access his magic." Petch shook his head with amazement, gobsmacked at the power of the young man laying before him. He then went about applying salve to the men's chafed wrists, until all of them were less red and puffy. "I'll speak to Katherine, I'm sure we can accommodate all of you until you travel. Come with me." Petch wandered towards the door, already imagining how agog his fellow villagers would be at the sight of such nobility vising them. "I'm guessing one of you will want to stay with Merlin?"

"I will." Every man answered in unison, all worried for their friend and concerned that any moment could be his last.

"I'll stay." Arthur yawned, the circles under his eyes had grown a deep purple, giving away the lack of sleep he'd had since they'd been captured.

"No, let me." Gwaine nodded, the more awake of the two. Arthur was about to protest, but Gwaine met Arthur's worried gaze. "Let me." He reiterated.

"Okay, but you come and get me if anything, and I mean anything happens." Arthur agreed reluctantly.

"Of course." Gwaine nodded, then watched the scruffy ensemble exit the house. He pulled the stool from Petch's bench over to the bed so he could sit by Merlin. "You scared me, mate." Gwaine mumbled to sleeping boy. He'd never felt as frightened as he had done in that moment he'd realised he'd have to return to Camelot alone, lacking the person who kept him grounded. His heart was still slightly off kilter, and was now speeding up, unaccustomed as he was to speaking so openly about his feelings, even to someone who was unconscious. "I don't know what I would've done without you. You're my best friend." He started when he saw Merlin's eyelids begin to flutter, a sure sign of his awakening. "Merlin?"

"Mm? Gwaine?" Merlin mumbled, yawning. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Petch gave you a small sleeping draught, he said it would help you." Merlin nodded sluggishly, the last of the draught wearing away. He tilted his head to alleviate the ache in his neck, and immediately spotted the remnants of the beaker sparkling all over the floor.

"What happened there?" Merlin pondered, trying to recall the glass breaking, but the last few hours were still a fuzzy haze in his mind.

"Nothing, you know Percival, the man doesn't know his strength sometimes; I think he bumped it with his arm." Merlin squinted hard at Gwaine, the man was a terrible liar. How he'd ever won anything playing cards was anyone's guess. Actually, knowing Gwaine, he'd never won anything, he'd probably just elaborated the stories.

"So what really happened?" Merlin sounded like a parent, trying to coax the truth out of a naughty child.

"You know it's a funny thing…" Gwaine chuckled nervously, his eyes darting around the room, landing everywhere and anywhere other than the warlock.

"Tell me Gwaine." Merlin was growing impatient, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. If there was a reasonable answer, Gwaine wouldn't be dancing around the issue as much as he was.

"You kind of… sleep-magic." Gwaine shrugged, as if it wasn't ground-breaking news to Merlin.

"What?" Merlin froze.

"You do magic when you're asleep." Gwaine awkwardly explained.

Why had he offered to stay with Merlin? Elyan was good at withholding information, as was Arthur, as was Percival, and Leon… well three of them were good at withholding stuff they probably shouldn't be telling Merlin the moment he woke up. Gwaine couldn't keep a secret to save his life, hence the numerous bar fights and endless travelling, except when it was truly life or death, such as Merlin's secret.

"Oh no." Merlin ran his hand through his tussled hair. "I didn't do too much damage, did I?"

"Nah, just that broken beaker, I don't think it bothered Petch too much." Gwaine clamped his hand over his mouth the minute the words came out. God he was loose-lipped!

"Petch knows?" Merlin gaped, almost leaping out of bed, and he would've fell on his shaky legs were it not Gwaine immobilising him quickly.

"Yes. But he's good with it. Trust me." He rushed, trying to calm Merlin. "If I'd had any inkling you were in danger, you'd not still be here." He smiled.

"I suppose." Merlin relented. "Where are the others?" He glanced around the empty room.

"Getting some sleep. I said I'd stay with you." Gwaine released his grip on Merlin and reclaimed his spot of the stool.

"Gwaine you didn't need to-" Merlin started, then stopped abruptly when he was met by Gwaine's stormy gaze.

"Let me stop you there. In the last week I have seen you tortured, disowned, nearly executed, nearly banished and nearly die. So please don't tell me I don't have to stay with you Merlin, because I do. Because I almost lost the one person in this world who I care about." Gwaine breathed, his unexpected rant thick in the air.

"I'm sorry." Merlin grimaced. "I'm so sorry I put you all through this. If Drin hadn't seen me, if I'd hidden a bit better…"

"None of this is your fault, we're supposed to look after you, not the other way around." Gwaine cursed under his breath. There was a moment of silence before Merlin finally raised the elephant in the room.

"So I have magic…" He grinned sheepishly. He knew this wouldn't be as difficult as talking to Arthur or any of the other knights, but he was worried that Gwaine would be upset about the deceit.

"It appears you do." Gwaine laughed. "But don't worry about it mate, I've known all along."

"You have?" Merlin frowned. "Since when?"

"Flying plates, not very subtle. And you think princess could defeat all those bandits by himself? That those branches just happened to fall?" Gwaine snickered, finding it all quite funny in hindsight.

"You never said anything." Merlin pouted, unsure if he was upset or not.

"If I told you I knew, you would've had one more person to worry about, one more way your secret could've gotten out." Gwaine sighed.

"And now everyone knows." Merlin contemplated. "It's strange. I don't feel relieved, I just have more to worry about."

"You tell me straight away if-"

"No, not like that." Merlin was quick to reassure Gwaine. "Not that he would, but you'd be the first I told. I worry for our future. Things at Camelot aren't going to be the same, everything's changed."

"It has. But change isn't always bad, sometimes it can be beneficial for everyone."

"We'll see."

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 **Oooh. *Ominous music***

 **Ahh Gwaine, you big mouth! Though Merlin and Gwaine did get their moment, finally.**

 **I'm thrilled you're on board for a sequel! Points to anyone who can guess the title.** **(Hint:** _ **'Of [redacted] and [redacted]'**_ **)**

 **The title will be announced at the end of chapter 20, along with anyone who got it right.**

 **N.b: There are no prizes, just the knowledge that you guessed correct. Sorry.**


	18. Of Horses and Tales

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Sorry for the slight delay, I've had quite a busy week that left no time for writing and editing. This chapter speeds through a lot of elements, because I have a rough idea of what I want to happen in the next chapters, and I needed to get there by the end of this one. It's taken me a while to write as I had four different sections that needed linking, and it needed to flow as well.**

 **I can tell you that one person so far has guessed the title correctly, and some of you are so close!**

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Arthur and the knights spent the rest of their time in Redferran alternating between keeping Merlin company, planning their journey back to Camelot, and catching up on much needed food and sleep. Merlin was looking slightly better, his fever had decreased somewhat, though he was still white as a sheet, the infection had not fully gone away and as best as he tried to hide it, the pain remedy had been wearing off and he was beginning to fully feel the effects of his time spent with Drin now he was more alert. Petch had offered to make more for Merlin straightaway, using the last of the ingredients in his cupboards, but he'd declined, opting to take as large a dose a possible when they set off for Camelot. Something told him that a day's ride was not going to be pleasant.

The group had stayed in Redferran all day and through to the next morning, indebted to the support of the villagers. Even though they were not ruled by Arthur, they'd willingly offered up their homes to the outsiders; making up spare beds and being sure to provide them with food as if they were their own family. They'd had their shirts mended by some of the women, as most of them had been missing large portions, used to make Merlin's makeshift bandages.

Katherine's husband had given Merlin a fresh shirt, which had been far too large, hanging loosely off of his thin frame. He'd accepted it with gratitude, though he was lamenting the loss of his beloved tunic, jacket and neckerchief in Drin's tower. He'd also been patched up to the best of Petch's abilities, and informed that he'd probably need stitches when he arrived in Camelot, though Merlin was more than certain that Gaius would go over him three or four times to make sure he would be completely healed.

It was barely dawn when Petch had taken Arthur outside to discuss travel arrangements, the sky that familiar blend of colours that signified the beginning of the day, and Arthur couldn't believe that only one night had passed since Merlin's latest scare.

"I imagine you'll be needing some horses for your journey home. We've got none, but there's a large farm that'll be able to spare some down the road." Petch signalled to a boy no more than eight to come over. "Jonathan, I've got a deal for you."

"Yes, Mr Petch?" He asked politely.

"If you go down to Grotesby and ask Mr Howard at the big farm if he could bring five horses for me, I'll give you a penny and I won't tell your mother I saw you playing in that barn instead of completing those chores of yours." Jonathan nodded keenly and ran off behind the houses.

"That's good of you, but I don't have-" Arthur started, but once more Petch waved him off, his hospitality shining through.

"I'm calling in a favour. John Howard was passing through the village on his way home from one of the nearby cities when he was struck with a terrible fever. I helped him through it, even though, like you, he had little money on him. He told me if I ever needed a favour, he was the man to call, and I'm not going to be around for much longer, so it seems like a good time to call it in."

"Thank you Petch. Honestly. I don't what we would've done without you." Arthur gave him a sincere smile.

"Just take care of him, ok? He's a good lad, and I can see how much he means to you, to all of you. Don't let the beliefs your father held ruin your friendship."

"I won't. But I'm worried I've already ruined it myself." The king grimaced, feeling ever so foolish for doubting Merlin and his motives.

"Then you'll make up for it. I believe in you Arthur." Petch smiled, a fatherly warmness unfamiliar to Arthur emanating from him.

"If there's anything me or my knights or Camelot can do for you, don't ever hesitate to let us know."

"That's a very kind offer, your majesty." Petch smiled. "I'll be sure contact you, god forbid I should ever need to."

"Mr Petch! They're here!" Jonathan bounded up to the physician, pointing at the men leading a number of horses into the village.

"Well I made a promise, didn't I?" Petch deliberately rummaged in his pocket for a few moments, before pulling out a worn penny, which he handed to the boy, who took it eagerly but still politely.

"Thank you sir." The boy's grin was so full of mischief it reminded Arthur of Merlin when he'd first arrived at Camelot.

"Petch." A bearded man, presumedly Mr Howard, led a group of farm workers, each one of them leading a horse, a large grin coating his face.

"John." Petch countered, shaking the man's hand. "I'm grateful you could be of assistance."

"I have to admit, I am curious as what you intend to do with five horses." He stopped once he had clapped eyes on Arthur, the king now beginning to feel uncomfortable with the fact people looked at him like he had three heads.

"John Howard, let me introduce you to King Arthur of Camelot." Petch moved to side, acquainting the two men.

"Your majesty?" John gaped, adjusting his shirt and straightening his hat.

"Thank you ever so much for this, we've found ourselves notably short of transportation." Arthur nodded, assessing the horses as the men tied them to posts on the outskirts of the village.

"What brings you so far from Camelot?" He enquired bemusedly.

"An unfortunate run in with our friend Drin." Petch sighed. "He's at it again John. Angling for Arthur's throne, no less."

"That fool. He dreams of rule, yet I doubt he'd know the first thing about presiding over a kingdom." John shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. "The horses are for you and your men?"

"They are. We've been away from Camelot far too long, and are eager to return home. Are they ready to ride?"

"Yes they should be, I'm sure they're fit enough to undertake a day's ride to Camelot."

"Then I believe we should leave while it's still early. Leon?" Arthur called out to his knight, who was currently finishing a bowl of porridge outside with the woman whose house he'd been staying in. "Can you fetch everyone?" Leon replied with an affirmation, making sure to eat every last spoonful inside his bowl. He then headed inside the house that Gwaine was sleeping in, realising he'd be the hardest to wake, having spent most of his time with Merlin, despite the protests of the other knights. It was something they knew of old - a tired Gwaine was not a happy Gwaine.

"I'll go get Merlin." Arthur left Petch and John to catch up, heading inside the physician's house.

Merlin was sat up on his bed, sipping some kind of concoction out of a wooden cup. He greeted Arthur was a smile, before grimacing once more.

"Pain medication, tastes absolutely awful. Why can't any of these ever taste like strawberries?"

"Then how would physicians get their kicks?" Arthur smiled. "Petch organised some horses for us, are you ready to go?" His smile dropped to a frown when he noticed how tense Merlin still was, not to mention pale and sluggish in his movements.

"As I'll ever be. Give me a hand?" Arthur helped him off the bed, then tightened his grip as Merlin wobbled, his legs still pretty unstable.

Arthur shot him a look, a very pointed 'I told you so', and Merlin returned his look with one that said 'I'm fine'. Arthur relented and let Merlin walk alone, staying closer to him than normal should his legs give out. Merlin was determined to walk outside Petch's house without Arthur's assistance, despite the fact he was wincing as the movement was tugging on his bandaged wounds, and prayed Petch's remedy would kick in soon.

Leon, Elyan, Percival and a very grumpy looking Gwaine were gathered by Petch and the horses, making light conversation about the clear skies, followed by mumblings of 'too bloody early' from a certain dark haired knight.

Gwaine made to help Merlin, but Arthur met his eyes, giving him a slight shake of his head. He knew Merlin hated being treated as if he were an invalid, and as much as the warlock needed help, Arthur would let him do as much as he could on his own.

"Everyone ready?" Arthur noted the supplies they were now carrying with them, namely full flasks of water and packs with small offerings of various foodstuffs. With luck they'd reach Camelot by nightfall, and have no need to make another camp.

"I think so sire. The horses are ready, all that's needed now is to set off." Leon affirmed, having double checked everything in his usual efficiency.

"There's only five horses." Merlin counted aloud, unaware of why there was no steed for him.

"Yes, one for everyone except you. You're not riding alone." Merlin started to protest, but Arthur simply held his hand up. "You're not riding alone Merlin, end of discussion." The last thing the King needed was for Merlin to fall from a horse and make himself worse.

"Fine. Who _am_ I riding with?" Merlin sighed wearily.

"You can ride with me." Gwaine offered, and Merlin inwardly rolled his eyes. Now his journey was not only going to be physically painful, he'd have Gwaine's tales in his ear until they were home.

Everyone bar Arthur mounted their horses, Gwaine pulling Merlin up as gently as he could, though it still sent jolts of pain through the injured warlock's weakened muscles, protesting the action.

"Thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I fear without you and your community's kindness, we would not be returning home as six." Arthur thanked Petch, gratitude teeming off him.

"You are welcome, your majesty." The physician gave a small bow. "Now off with you, or you'll not beat the night." Arthur mounted his horse, giving Petch one more smile, before leading his knights and faithful servant away from Redferran and finally towards Camelot.

The journey was slow at first, none wanting to set a pace that would further disrupt Merlin's injuries, until it was decided that they had to speed up, not wanting to spend yet another cold night in these confounded woods. Merlin had kept mostly silent, biting his lip every so often so as not to cry out, not wanting to further worry Arthur and the knights, though Gwaine knew something wasn't quite right as he could feel Merlin tense up every few moments. He'd tried to keep the boy distracted, telling him of the time he'd escaped from a small village like Redferran, after running up a bar bill so high it'd make the chancellor blush. However the mood was still odd, the ride so reminiscent of the one they undertook just before their capture.

"Sire, may I enquire as to something?" Leon pulled his horse up next to Arthur's, the two trailing at the end of the group, and he kept his voice low, unwilling for the rest of his knights to hear their conversation.

"Of course." Arthur nodded.

"What is to happen to Merlin when we return to Camelot?" Leon's tone was difficult to judge.

He'd been a knight for a long time, spending most of his servitude under Uther and the Purge. His views on magic had been so twisted in recent years he was unsure as to what to believe anymore. He'd been saved by druids, and the man closest to his king had been revealed to have very benevolent magic. However, he'd seen the evil that could come from spells and enchantments, and Leon also knew the law. Merlin's continued existence in Camelot would defy so many set laws from Arthur's father's days.

"I don't know Leon. I really don't know." Arthur sighed. "The only thing I can say is that I am going to protect him at all costs. I hope you do not hold this against me." He admitted, never wanting to appear weak, and worrying that one of his family's longest serving knights would deem him so for choosing to overlook his servant's abilities.

"Of course not sire. Whilst I will admit the adjustment has been rather… difficult, I can see the boy means you no ill, and I am willing to trust him." Leon nodded, lifting a weight from Arthur's chest. "If I may Arthur, I believe you are much more broadly-minded than your father ever was."

"I'm still a fool for ever doubting him Leon. Trust me on that."

"I also take it we are to keep our knowledge under wraps?" Leon stated the obvious, knowing full well what would happen if they didn't.

"Absolutely." Arthur nodded sternly. "If word gets out, it could cause a panic, and it'd only serve to put a target on Merlin's forehead."

The ride continued to pass in light chatter and fairly peaceful for the next couples of hours. That was until Percival, who'd been leading the group for some time, held up a hand, causing everyone to promptly stop. In the distance they could hear the unmistakable sound of voices and horses, headed straight towards them.

"This part of the woods, could be anyone." Elyan breathed.

The hooves were getting louder, the company fast approaching. Arthur leapt from his horse, sword in hand, ready to face whatever was coming their way. He turned his head to look at Gwaine, who was still clutching onto Merlin, ensuring the boy would not fall.

"Gwaine, whatever happens, you make sure that Merlin gets to safety, you hear?"

"Yes sire." Gwaine nodded, between them a mutual understanding and concern for Merlin.

Closer and closer, the sound of hooves and voices carrying through the mist, Arthur and his fellow knights stood protectively in front of Gwaine and Merlin, intending to take down any man who stood in their way.

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 **We're getting close to the end! Only two more chapters left, e** **ek!**


	19. Of Heartbreak and Family

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Hey guys! Sorry it's a little later than I planned. I rewrote some of the scenes in this quite a few times, I could see them playing out in my head perfectly, then when I wrote them they were not nearly as emotional as I would've liked.**

 **Anyway, onwards.**

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The search party leaving Camelot consisted of four knights: Sirs Lucan, Owain, Pellinore and Bruin. It was the fifth search party to venture out into the woods, in what they believed was yet another vain attempt to locate the king and the four knights missing along with him. However much they would deny it, they had no plan on how to rescue the king. There was no ransom note demanding money, no quest he'd not returned from, no reports of attacks. The king and his comrades had quite simply vanished from their patrol.

They'd heard talk of some form of recruitment of men in the lowlands, but the location was a precarious one, being ruled by neither Arthur nor Cenred. Sending Camelot's army charging in could have been viewed as an act of war by Cenred, and without a leader they would've been a hundred times weaker against an invasion.

Camelot's advisors had worried what was to happen to the kingdom if the worst was confirmed, as Arthur was childless and without a consort. The Pendragon dynasty would be dead, the throne open to claims by tyrants. Daily business had been called to a halt when the disappearance had become apparent, the sole focus of the kingdom to regain its lost monarch.

Gaius watched the men leave Camelot from his empty quarters, recalling the moment Lucan had entered his chambers days ago. He'd expected it to be Merlin, late for dinner and no doubt exhausted and grumpy from the patrol. Gaius knew Merlin never really liked patrol, though it'd become better with time as he and Arthur had become friends and the knights behaved as if Merlin was one of them.

So the sight of Sir Lucan in his chambers was startling to say the least. He'd glanced the man up and down, and frowned, seeing no visible injury or discomfort. He'd asked how he could help, offering the knight a seat, to which he had declined, but suggested that Gaius did so. Gaius also declined, then insisted that Lucan tell him why he was there and what was so urgent that he had come to his chambers so late in the evening. Especially when he was expecting a grouchy warlock home any second.

Lucan had taken a breath, clearly pondering over his words before he spoke to the physician, who was growing more and more irritable by the minute. Gaius had finally grown weary of the man's hesitancy, demanding he either give him some sort of explanation as to why he was there or leave his quarters, deciding it better to go to bed than wait up any longer for Merlin. No doubt he'd get the full account of the day's events over breakfast.

Gaius had never imagined that the next words out of Lucan's mouth would be 'the king and his entire patrol have gone missing'. In a second his exasperation with Lucan had been replaced by a disoriented numbness, shortly followed by a nauseating stabbing pain. He'd stumbled backwards into a chair by the workbench, denials escaping from his lips without much thought.

Merlin couldn't be missing. He just _couldn't_ be.

He'd refused to believe it at first, the doctoral rationality his brain usually possessed becoming overtaken by what was an immediate subconscious grieving. He'd told Lucan that he was mistaken, that they'd probably just ventured further into the woods than usual, and had been forced to camp for the night, or it had taken them longer than usual to return. He'd assured the knight that they'd be home in the morning, that there was nothing to worry about. Though the words were possibly more to comfort Gaius than the man in front of him.

Lucan let out a heavy breath, unwilling to argue with the medic. He knew that the boy was like a son to the old physician, and could see no reasoning with him at that late hour, instead promising to inform him should the king return at first light. Lucan didn't know how he would react if he'd been given the news that his own son was missing, but he understood the shock and hurt that Gaius would be feeling. With any luck the group would be home in the morning, the entire idea a bad dream, but he was most doubtful.

Gaius thanked him, finding enough strength to stand and show Lucan out, then collapsing in the same chair once more. He'd wait for Merlin after all, then he'd catch up on sleep the next day, and make his ward do the early morning medicinal deliveries around the castle for scaring him so. Everything would be fine in the morning.

Except it wasn't.

He awoke with a start at dawn, still slumped in his chair, having kept awake for half the night until sleep had finally overtaken him. He glanced around the room, anxiously searching for his ward's return, ready to chastise him, and then welcome him home, in that order. But he didn't find Merlin, instead Gwen was there, apologising for waking him and babbling something about not knowing who else to talk to. Her face was covered in dried tears, her eyes red-rimmed and heavy, lack of sleep evident upon her tired features.

He'd shaken off her apologies, not letting his disappointment show, and stood to make tea for the pair, his caring instincts finally kicking in. He sat her down at the table, placing a hot cup in front of her, then taking the opposite seat. It was clear that neither were in the mood for anything to eat, instead sipping tea in an attempt to calm their nervous stomachs.

The moment was one of simple ordinariness, two people sat together taking tea, but something had clicked in Gaius. Perhaps it was the manner in which he was sat with Gwen, as he normally would with Merlin at this time, had he awoken early and was not forced to rush out, forgoing breakfast in favour of bringing Arthur his. Perhaps it was simply the beginning of a new day that had made the old physician see more clearly, but Gaius had suddenly realised that Merlin was not on his way home.

 _He was missing_.

And it was killing Gaius all over again.

In the coming days Gaius had spent most of his time with the knights leading the search parties, making sure they were covering as much land as possible and sending correspondence to areas of Camelot and outer laying lands, hoping for some news of a ransom, or some wannabe tyrant to confirm he had Arthur. It was with luck that no one particularly needed his assistance that week. One of the servants had been instructed on how to make people's daily doses of medication and a woman from the lower town had offered herself to help with mild ailments.

He also spent time with Gwen, she having lost both Merlin, one of her best friends, and Arthur. Gaius was never quite sure what the relationship was between the pair, but he knew something had been changing, the looks shared of a different nature recently.

Gaius wouldn't lost hope, not even as prospects of locating them without any outside help dwindled. They'd had to remain cagy about what information was given out, unwilling to alert the wrong people of the king's absence. Gaius knew Merlin, and he knew Arthur and the knights. None would go down easily, even if, god forbid, it meant Merlin revealing his magic, something which would become apparent as either wise or foolish. Gaius hoped for wise.

Days after the news of their disappearance, Gaius was stood stoically at the foot of the castle, waiting patiently for the return of the fifth search party. He looked terrible, older than ever before as dark bags rimmed his eyes and heavy lines wrinkled his face. The slight breeze caught the hem of his robes as the horses began to enter the walls of the castle, and Gaius stood like stone with bated breath as they arrived.

The shock almost made him keel over when he realised the party returning was far greater than the party that left. The physician kept his gaze upon them, searching for one figure and one figure alone.

The band was led by Lucan, who caught the physician's eye and gave him a small nod, the tiniest gesture with the most significance, though the expression he was given was tight, guarded, filling Gaius with worry, but Merlin was here, and he was alive, he couldn't ask for more than that. Lucan was followed by the three younger knights who'd left with Lucan; Owain, Pellinore and Bruin, relief of finding the monarch, alive and well, lighting up their faces.

Then the returning knights. First Percival and Elyan, the two smiling to themselves and clearly revelling in their homecoming. They were followed by Arthur and Leon, the pair quietly discussing something between themselves, and Gaius believing he had never seen Arthur looking so drawn. Then finally one more horse, carrying the two final distinctly dark-haired men. The physician legs moved him towards them, whilst his brain caught up with what was happening.

Merlin was home.

 _Merlin_ was _home_.

Though Gaius froze as Merlin's shirt slightly caught whilst Gwaine helped him from the horse. His wounded torso revealed a fraction of the injuries on his body, but it was still enough to make Gaius unwell. A worn bandage with pale red soaking through was plastered over green and yellow bruises, and one of his ribs looked to have swelling around it and it was clearly displaced.

The old man let out a silent groan of upset, feeling an intense anger at whoever had done that to his ward. He would talk to Arthur about that as soon as he could, he would not let anyone get away with hurting Merlin. The warlock was swaying and mumbling something to himself, very clearly in pain as Gaius rushed towards the boy, seeing his mentor and breaking into a weak but heartfelt grin.

Neither said anything for a moment, Gaius simply enveloped the boy in a fatherly hug, clutching him tight, but careful of not further injuring whatever was ailing the boy. Merlin reciprocated wholeheartedly, letting out a breath he felt he'd been holding in since his capture, and the two stood together embracing for a silent moment.

"I thought I'd lost you, my boy." Gaius' usual stoic voice was cracking with emotion.

"Me too." Merlin murmured faintly, overwhelmed to be, quite literally, back into the arms of the familiar.

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 **No cliff-hanger this time, just some overdue happiness.**

 **What did you think? I wrote this chapter a little differently with very little dialogue. I didn't intend for this to be a catch up in Camelot originally, but I began writing Gaius' flashback and quite enjoyed the tone.**


	20. Of Stories and Understanding

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

… **Hello there.**

 **I am so sorry I've been gone almost two months with no word.** **This chapter has taken ages to write, so I hope people are still wanting to read this story, and I hope you'll stick with me through the sequel as well. And** **you know how I said this would be the final chapter? Well, I realised I can't cram everything left in the story into one chapter, so they'll be a couple more.**

 **What can I say? I'm inconsistent.**

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They'd not lingered a moment longer in the courtyard, as Merlin's suppressed groans of pain were becoming more and more apparent. Gaius had let go of his ward and led the way back to his chambers, Merlin reluctantly leaning on Arthur and Gwaine for support having realised he'd never manage all those stairs under his own steam.

Though Merlin had tried to shrug the king off when Pellinore approached them, the knight suggesting he call a council meeting and they discuss just what had happened to Arthur and how to get the kingdom back to full working order by sundown. Arthur had flat out refused, informing the other knights that he and his men were far too exhausted from the journey home; that they'd be retiring to their rooms for much needed sleep.

Arthur had spoken the truth. Mostly. He'd never felt so tired, the severity of their time away from Camelot weighing heavily on him. However, the main reason was that he was unwilling to leave Merlin's side. The king had barely been absent from his servant since their capture, aside from his time spent in the cells and when he'd finally grabbed some rest in Redferran. He knew Merlin's condition could turn at any moment, he'd had to restart the boy's heart for god's sake, and he would not be away from him for a second he was in danger.

The journey to Gaius' quarters had never taken so long; the stairs seemed never-ending and so much more tiresome than Arthur could remember. Then again, he wasn't usually carrying a semi-unconscious manservant up as he went. Elyan, Percival and Leon had dispersed to their chambers, stating that they'd let Gaius look over them later, especially as there was little wrong with them. The redness around their chafed wrists had all but disappeared thanks to Petch's salve, and they all knew Merlin needed far more treatment than any of them.

"Put him down over there." Gaius motioned to the bed in the middle of the room, which Arthur and Gwaine laid Merlin on carefully. "Can you hear me? Merlin?" Gaius eyed the warlock, his worry speaking for itself.

"I'm dying, not deaf." Merlin grumbled, though the words were disappearing on his lips.

"You're not dying, you idiot." Arthur snapped, though it was worry, not anger, clouding his eyes. Petch had done his best to treat Merlin, but what if the infection had taken too much of a hold? What if his heart stopped again? What if…?

"Gwaine?" Gaius' voice broke Arthur out of his 'what ifs'. "I need you to go find Gwen and get me some fresh water from the kitchen as well as some more honey." The physician's tone directed at the knight was one of an order, not a request, though Gwaine looked suitably conflicted about leaving Merlin.

"See you in a minute." Gwaine nodded at Merlin, a reluctant sigh escaping his lips, before grudgingly heading out the door.

"Merlin, let me see." Gaius instructed, gesturing for the poor boy to remove the ill-fitting shirt.

"It's not a very pretty sight." Merlin's speech was becoming slightly slurred again, and his vision wasn't quite focussing on the two familiar figures in front of him. He wasn't quite cross-eyed, but there was a general blurriness to Arthur's face, though Merlin thought if nothing else it improved the king's features somewhat.

"Merlin, shirt." Gaius asked, this time with a much softer tone than before, and Merlin hesitantly pulled the worn shirt from his body and let it drop to the floor. He doubted he'd be wearing it again anyway.

"Don't feel too good." Merlin groaned as he rubbed at his forehead, his vision beginning to blur. "Gaius…" He managed to mumble before his eyes rolled shut and he fell back onto the bed, unconscious. Gaius was quick to check Merlin's pulse and assure both Arthur and himself that he was merely out cold.

"It's probably just exhaustion." Gaius nodded, as if reaffirming it to himself, reluctant for it to be anything more serious. "Arthur, calm down."

"I need to do _something_ Gaius." He'd begun nervously pacing around the room. "I can't just watch him-" He stopped himself from going any further, but ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Well, you could start by telling me why in god's name Merlin is lying in that bed right now." Gaius was trying to refrain from unleashing his anger on Arthur. Mostly he was angry at whoever'd put Merlin in that position, but there was a small part of him that was still mad at the king, mad at him for needlessly bringing Merlin on patrol. He knew Arthur, and whilst he'd never admit it, he knew that Merlin was the one the king wanted out on patrol with him. However, it was still no excuse for dragging him into dangerous situation after dangerous situation, even with the added safety of Merlin's magic. Though Gaius had wondered if his magic was one of the reasons Merlin so often came home with cuts and scrapes, that he was so focussed on protecting Arthur, he stopped protecting himself. "I need you to tell me everything." Gaius softened his tone slightly, but kept his face stern whilst he worked. He paused for a moment, then looked at Arthur, reiterating: " _Everything_."

Arthur nodded, growing quiet for a moment as he pondered over the words in his head. He wanted to make that Gaius new everything, even if it meant admitting to one of the few father figures in his life just how badly he'd messed everything up.

"We were captured by a man named Drin, his people somehow managed to overpower us. He brought us to a tower where we were imprisoned. It was then they took Merlin."

"What did they want him for?" Gaius took a breath, unsure of what would come from the king's mouth.

"They tortured him." Arthur looked away, squeezing his nails into his palms slightly, the horrific memory refusing to leave.

"Why?" Gaius shook his head, and Arthur remained silent for a moment. "Arthur, what did they want with Merlin?" Gaius could feel his stomach sink, worry beginning to take control.

"His magic." Arthur blurted out, unable to keep hold of it any longer.

"You- you- sire…?" Gaius almost stumbled backwards, his mouth agape at the king's confession. Arthur knew? Arthur had known the entire time they'd been in this room, with Gaius treating Merlin, and he'd not said anything? "You know?" He gasped out. "Of Merlin? And yet you still brought him to me?"

"I do. I've had time to ponder the subject, and a number of harsh words from Gwaine. I've come to realise that warlock or not, he's still my friend." Arthur looked up at Gaius, and gave him a small smile, to ensure that the physician knew he was completely serious.

"My god sire, I can't believe it." Gaius looked like he was about to cry, but refrained, limiting himself to a long awaited light laugh and visible relief in his eyes. Arthur glanced towards the shelves, keeping his gaze fixed on the familiar jars and books as he continued his tale.

"Drin demanded Merlin help him, the man was determined he'd have Camelot's throne, certain he could use Merlin's magic as a weapon and it would make him unstoppable. Merlin was, as Drin put it, discourteous."

" _Merlin_." Gaius groaned, looking down at him. Why had he done that? Why did he have to be his usual, provocative self? "This man, Drin, he was the one who tortured him?"

"With a knife." Arthur winced as he nodded, feeling himself turning pale at the memory. "And he chained him up with magic supressing manacles. Merlin didn't stand a chance."

Gaius began checking over some of Merlin's more serious injuries, namely the deeper cuts and the stab wound, slowly peeling back the bandages adorning Merlin's torso. He shuddered as he caught sight of the damage done to his ward, then turned to his workbench, preparing various solutions. He was also rummaging through his drawers for a needle and thread, all the while muttering various injuries of Merlin's and how he planned to treat them, something which Arthur assumed was to keep the physician calm and level-headed.

"You escaped though? I heard the knights talking as you came into the castle, they spoke as if they just happened upon you."

"Yes, it's… complicated. I'm still not sure I understand what happened. Drin was about to kill me, had me on my knees with the sword lined up and everything. Then Merlin, he just started… _laughing_. Taunting Drin, telling him he underestimated him. There was this kind of earthquakes, and Merlin wasn't chained up anymore, neither were we, and he almost choked Drin to death. Gaius, if I hadn't made him leave, I don't know what would've happened." Arthur rubbed at his eyes, and let out a sigh.

Gaius said nothing, he simply continued to assess Merlin, though he frowned as a thought entered his head.

"He's bandaged up. Someone treated his cuts?" He asked, perplexedly.

"Sort of." Arthur shrugged. "I washed and covered them as best I could when we were in the woods," Gaius tried to stifle his surprise and slight amusement at the idea of the king cleaning his servant's wounds, "but we found a village in the lowlands, a place named Redferran, have you heard of it?"

"I can't say I have." Gaius shook his head after a moment.

"Their physician, Petch, he treated Merlin's wounds better than we could, though he himself didn't have many supplies. We owe Merlin's life to him, and his villagers." Arthur didn't know if he'd ever repay the man for what he did. "Petch told us he's got infected cuts on his upper body, and a heavy wound on the back of his shoulder blade, his rib is displaced, and he's been in and out of a fever since we escaped."

Gaius nodded, his mouth drawn into a thin, grimacing line.

"The bruising seems to be healing on its own, so I'll leave that be." Gaius noted as he removed each of the bandages.

"Petch used something on them. Arnica, I think?"

"Good." Gaius nodded. "It should help the repair process a bit." He began to dab a cloth smothered in a gooey, umber liquid across Merlin's infected cuts. "I'll let that work for a few hours, then these will need stiches once they've calmed down a bit." Gaius paused. "He'll have some scars." He lamented quietly. The wound on his shoulder wasn't too infected, but was clearly quite deep and would need dealing with as soon as possible, once Gaius had checked over the rest of him.

"His heart stopped." Arthur blurted out suddenly. He wasn't quite sure why, but he wanted to tell Gaius, as much as it might upset him. Perhaps he wanted to prove that he'd do anything to keep Merlin alive, that he shouldn't be considered a threat to Merlin, though he hoped Gaius would never consider him a threat. "I mean his heart completely stopped, I thought he was dead, but I- I restarted it."

"Impossible." Gaius shook his head. "Unless you…"

"I hit his chest, like you explained to me and my father when Sir John collapsed all those years ago."

"You do listen." Gaius breathed in amazement. "I can't thank you enough Arthur." Gaius' eyes shone with genuine gratitude and admiration.

"I can't lose him." Arthur sighed. "I had to at least try and keep him alive. I'd have never forgiven myself if I hadn't done something."

"So I can expect you down here for herbology lessons of an evening, can I?" The old physician joked, easing some of the tension building up in the room.

"I'll leave the medical stuff to you two." Arthur let out a small laugh. "I reckon it was pure luck I saved Merlin."

"Perhaps." Gaius murmured to himself, so quietly Arthur would not hear him, a small smile across his lips. "Perhaps nothing more than the toss of a coin."

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 **Once again, sorry for the wait. I'll try to get the next one up as soon as I can.**


	21. Of Stitches and Slings

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Next chapter. On we go.**

 ** _Disclaimer: Once again, I have googled stuff about medicine and treatments. I am not a doctor, and I have no real medical knowledge._ **

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"These burns, I take it they're from the manacles?" Gaius asked, taking one of Merlin's hand and turning it over, examining the blistering on his wrists.

"They are." Arthur paused, thinking for a moment. "Petch mentioned something about the cuffs."

"What did he say?" Gaius looked up.

"That Merlin's burns are worse than usual because he used his magic to break out of them. That he must've used a lot of power to break free from them." Arthur shook his head. "It's a wonder he had the capacity to."

"Merlin's strong, stronger than you give him credit for, but I agree, these wounds are extensive." Gaius sighed.

"Drin didn't just hurt Merlin physically." Arthur started, feeling shame creep over him once more. "He figured out what would hurt Merlin the most. He used me against Merlin, as leverage. Drin's the reason Merlin was found out. He ordered one of his men to kill me, in front of Merlin, knowing that either I'd die or he'd save me. That was how I found out about Merlin's magic. It was neither ideal nor planned, and the way I reacted wasn't the best response. I was horrible Gaius. I said things to him I can never take back, and now I'm worried I've lost him." Arthur's fists clenched and he let out a low growl in anger at himself.

Gaius placed the cloth on the bed next to Merlin for a moment, placing a fatherly hand on Arthur's shoulder.

"Arthur, when have you known Merlin to hold a grudge, against anyone? Let alone you." Arthur opened his mouth, but found to argument to Gaius' reasoning. Merlin was one of the most forgiving people he'd ever met. "Give him time to deal with this. He's had to hide himself for years, and suddenly the one person that wasn't supposed to know now does." Gaius gave the king a kind smile, then resumed his place next to Merlin.

"Gwaine wanted to take him back to Ealdor. Away from me. He was worried that when I have a number of guards at my disposal then I could have Merlin killed. But I would never let that happen Gaius, I hope you know that. If this past week has taught me anything, it's that I can't lose him."

"Then you've already started to show how much you care. You've chosen to focus on your friendship rather than his magic." Arthur smiled, determined more than ever to make things right with his servant. He'd been about to say something else, but the door crashed open and Gwaine almost fell over in his hurry. He was followed by an equally flustered Gwen, who narrowly avoided spilling the bowl of water she was carrying.

"Oh, Merlin." She gasped, setting the bowl down and rushing to the side of her unconscious friend. Her eyes momentarily scanned over his torso, trying to assess his injuries as quick as she possibly could, unwilling to look for too long at him.

"He's not…?" Gwaine gripped hold of Gaius' workbench to steady himself, worry thick in his voice.

Gaius shook his head.

"Just unconscious. Poor boy, he's probably exhausted. The wounds are nasty, and he'll have lost quite a bit of blood, so we should all expect him to be out a lot over the next few days. His body needs to heal itself, and it can do it a lot faster if he's knocked out." Gaius sighed.

"Will he be alright?" Arthur breathed out, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"He's a way to go, but I'm hopeful." Gaius smiled sadly. "He's a fighter." His sentiments were interrupted by a bout of wheezing coming from Merlin, his chest looking rigid and tight. "Merlin?" He called out, then eyed his rib, which was still protruding awkwardly from his torso. "That's what'll be affecting his breathing. I just hope…" He tenderly felt around his rib, and tested it gently, checking to see if it would move up and down. He let out a short sigh of relief. "I can fix this. It's a good thing he's out."

"Why?" Arthur and Gwaine asked, though they needn't have as almost immediately Gaius pressed the rib back into place with a sickening pop. The king and his knight visibly recoiled from the noise, a look of horror on each of their faces. Gwen simply winced, having been present when shoulders were similarly popped back into their sockets, however it was a noise not even the strongest willed could not react to.

As soon as the rib was rightly aligned once more, the wheezing eased off and Merlin's chest was notably inflating and deflating with more ease than it had been for a while. Gaius began to wrap Merlin's ribs in bandages as Arthur turned away, running a hand through his hair. Merlin had to stop scaring him like that.

"It was a simple dislocation, though a rare occurrence in ribs." Gaius breathed, feeling more and more hatred towards this man that had done all this to to his ward. And Gaius was not a man to hate another often. "I think I've fixed it in time, before it healed wrong. Should heal right now, we just need to keep it bound." Gaius sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "Shoulder. His shoulder needs doing now."

"Are you alright Gaius?" Gwen placed a comforting hand on his, the physician looking more tired than ever.

"Fine, thank you. I just need to get Merlin treated. Can you help me with him?" Gwen nodded and pulled up a spare stool next to Gaius, setting the bowl of water on the bed next to Merlin. "Can one of you hold onto him while I work on his shoulder?" He gestured to Arthur and Gwaine, both stood worriedly at the foot of the bed.

Gwaine moved forward and sat opposite Gaius and Gwen, eager to help as much as he could. The three of them then rolled Merlin onto his side as gently as they could, Gwaine placing firm hands on him to keep him still.

"Gwen, his stitches will need to be kept still, could you make him a sling? You know where the supplies are."

"Of course." Gwen nodded, opening a cupboard and pulling out a piece of linen that would be large enough to make a support for his arm.

"It's better to do this whilst he can't feel it. Both of you know what it's like to be sewed up when you're awake." Arthur and Gwaine simultaneously winced, both recalling how painful it was to have a needle dragged through their skin whilst conscious.

Gaius tied the thread around the eye of the needle, then began slowly working it across the top of the stab wound. The wound began to draw shut, a trail of small 'x's left in its wake, and soon Gaius was knotting the end of the stitches. It fascinated Arthur, who had been watching Gaius from the end of the bed, how the elderly man's hands still moved with such delicacy and finesse.

Gwen returned with the sling, and Gaius placed Merlin's left hand across his right shoulder, then wrapped it in linen and tied it in a neat knot, just to the side of the nape of his neck. Gaius found a soft pillow and placed it just below Merlin's stitched shoulder on the bed, then motioned for Gwaine to slowly roll him onto his back.

"That's done. I'll need to close a few more, but they need a bit longer to calm down before I do. If I stitch them now, I could trap the infection inside his body and make things worse." Gaius explained. "Though I still need to lower his temperate, he's warmer than I'd like."

"Oh! The council!" Gwen clapped her hand over her mouth, her face wide as she realised. "Arthur, I forgot to tell you. The council wanted to see you, sooner rather than later."

"It'll have to wait." Arthur stood firm. He was _not_ going to leave Merlin again.

"Arthur…" Gaius began.

"I won't leave him Gaius. I can't." Arthur's eyes were pleading. Though Gaius had sounded optimistic, there was still a lot that could go wrong with Merlin, and he didn't think he would ever forgive himself if something happened when he wasn't there.

"There's nothing more to be done, for now. The infection has to be cleared before I can start stitching again, the salve will need at least another hour or so. Go, meet with the council, then you can come back and stay with Merlin." Arthur inwardly rolled his eyes. There was no arguing with Gaius once he'd decided what was going to happen.

"Gwen, could you go ahead and let them know I was held up with Gaius and that I'll be there as soon as I can?" Arthur sighed in resignation. Gwen nodded, pressing a soft peck to Merlin's temple before leaving.

"Why is he not healing himself?" Arthur muttered as soon as Gwen had left. For some reason he just couldn't shake the thought, and it worried him. They'd discussed it a little when Petch had been treating Merlin, but he knew Gaius would have far greater knowledge on magic – especially Merlin's magic. "He's not getting better as fast as he should, right?"

"Merlin's never been too good at healing." Gaius stated softly, though his face was tight with concern. "He's probably just been not awake enough to form a coherent spell. Now go on, they'll be missing you." He motioned towards the door with a face that said 'I won't tell you again'.

"You better not do anything stupid while I'm gone." Arthur pointed a finger at Merlin, warning the sleeping boy, then took one last look at him before he exited Gaius' quarters.

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 **I'm saying for definite this time that there's 24 chapters total. I've even written the ending so I don't go over again.**


	22. Of Arrogance and Humility

**Hey guys!**

 **Once again, apologies for the late update, so merry Christmas, happy new year, all that jazz. All I can say is I got a certain console at Christmas and have an addiction to that thing. But writing is in progress! I am finishing this story, don't worry.**

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The council meeting ended up taking over an hour, closer to two, before Arthur could leave. They'd been anxious to hear what had befallen their king, and how he'd come to end up in the woods when the search party found them.

Leon had also been there to attest as to what had happened, yet none of the other knights. Arthur suspected this was due to council's disapproval of his choice of men, common born and from outside the walls of Camelot. He'd often had to tell them if a specific knight in his close circle – Elyan, Gwaine, Percival – was needed there, otherwise they would not bother to summon them.

"Something's missing." One of the councilmen remarked after they'd finished discussing the latest grain numbers, squinting around the room.

He was a stuffy older man with a pompous name and an even more pompous attitude to match. He was the type of man who wore a hat to every meeting, insisting that the room was 'excessively drafty'. In reality, they all knew it was because most of his hair had departed from his scalp and he now resembled something of an oversized infant.

Arthur had a growing dislike of the man; he was one of the few members of the council left over from Uther's reign. Slowly but surely they were becoming replaced by younger people with fresher ideas and better attitudes, yet a few still desperately clung on, refusing to budge on anything contrary to their ways of life. He squinted some more, then the realisation finally struck him.

"Oh yes, that lanky fellow. The one that follows you around, your majesty. His name begins with a 'B' or something."

"My servant, _Merlin_?" Arthur gritted his teeth. Of course this man had not learnt Merlin's name, he'd only been pouring him wine and attending these meetings for the last five years.

"Close enough." The man waved off the error with an arrogant scoff. "Why's he not here?"

"He was… injured. He's currently recovering with Gaius." That was the understatement of the century. Merlin was fighting for his life, yet he couldn't let on to anyone that he'd suffered more than a scratch. He really didn't want questions to be raised as to why a servant had taken more interrogation than either king or knight. Merlin had been shaky on his feet when they arrived, not to mention very pale, but he'd been able to amble across the courtyard without drawing attention to himself too much.

"Nothing too serious, I hope." The man relaxed back in his chair, his face giving away that he clearly held no concern for the boy's fate. "Though I have to say sire, if he were to die, there's no harm in trying to find a better servant this time, am I right?" He snickered, as if he'd pleased the council with amusement.

Arthur was not laughing.

Instead his hands balled in fists, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles were whitening. That arrogant lord had no idea what Merlin had been through, and not just the past week. For the past five years he'd done the unimaginable, keeping Camelot safe alongside Arthur and all the while having to hide who he was in fear.

Leon had caught sight of Arthur's ever growing anger at the councilman, catching the king's eye and shaking his head ever so slightly, so as not to alert the others in the room. Arthur's mood was precarious at the moment, and an outburst of any kind about Merlin could raise suspicion. The knights and Arthur were desperate not to let anything slip about their new found knowledge, at least until they'd figured out some way of handling the entire situation.

"Merlin's not a bad servant. Rather, quite the opposite." Arthur breathed out through a forced, uncomfortable grin.

"Is that so, your majesty? He seems to constantly arrive late and has a habit of dropping things." The man laughed.

"That might be so, yet he saved my life." Arthur's words fell out of his mouth before his brain had had a chance to catch up. He grimaced slightly, mentally berating himself for arguing with the councilman.

"Really?" He narrowed his eyes, studying Arthur. The king had never defended the boy so much before, in fact he was usually the one to take part in light mocking of the servant.

"Yes, don't you remember? When that witch posing as Lady Helena tried to kill me? Merlin pushed me out of the way, and my father awarded him a position in the household." Arthur thought on his feet, recalling the day Merlin had become his servant.

 _Had Merlin used magic to save him, even back then?_

"Of course. As I recall, neither of you were particularly fond of that idea." Arthur almost let a real smile break through his fake one, the memories of their earliest encounters quite amusing in hindsight.

It'd taken him a while to realise it, but before Merlin, he'd been a completely different person. Merlin had changed him for the better, so subtly Arthur hadn't realised for such a long time, and now he couldn't imagine life without him.

"We'd… run into each other a few times before, under less than ideal circumstances." Arthur relented that a mace fight was an unusual way to make friends.

"Still, it is all men's duty to protect their king. Throwing yourself in front of a blade doesn't make you a good servant." The man derided with a sarcastic laugh.

Arthur had reached breaking point. He would not just sit there and let this man ridicule Merlin, especially as he lay possibly dying on the other side of the castle. He opened his mouth, a tirade of abuse about to come pouring out again the councilman, but he was cut off before he could begin.

"My lord, I believe Gaius wanted to take a look at your wrist, after you were done with the meeting." Leon interrupted forcefully, ensuring the king would say nothing untoward. "I assume none of us would want the king to succumb to infection, would we?" His steely gaze cast to the councilman, who was now nonchalantly shuffling some papers, before motioning towards the door to Arthur.

"Your wrist, sire?" He peeked over his papers, furrowing his brow.

"Yes, manacles have a habit of chafing. Especially when you're held for a week." Arthur could not help but sound disdainful. "Gaius wants them treated as soon as possible, but I knew I had to meet with all of you first, and ensure that Camelot return to normal as soon as possible." Arthur surreptitiously pulled his shirt over his wrists.

They'd chosen not to mention their stop in Redferran to the council, worried that it'd raise yet more questions. Arthur and Leon had also been decidedly cagy about what happened in the tower; especially about why no ransom note was sent and how they'd escaped with barely a scratch on them.

"Apologies, I did not know your majesty was injured. Of course you should go and see the physician." Arthur wanted to scoff. 'The physician' had been part of the court for longer than Arthur had been alive, probably as long as the relic in front of him, yet he wouldn't acquaint Gaius by his name. The man was an egotistical snob, how he'd managed to secure a place on the council was anyone's guess.

"Then I believe the meeting is over." Arthur stood, not wanting to be in the room any longer than he needed to. He headed straight towards the large doors, Leon following closely behind.

"When did the king get so attached to that servant of his?" Whispered Lord Arrington, the councilman who'd noticed Merlin's absence, to himself as he watched Arthur leave the room, narrowing his suspicion-laden eyes.

"Arthur!" Leon called out to the king as he strode briskly down the corridor. He knew exactly where he was headed, the man had been itching to leave since they'd first met with the council.

"I'm going to see Merlin." Arthur didn't turn around.

"I know, and that's all very well, but what happened in there?" Leon panted, having to almost sprint to keep up with Arthur as determined as he was.

"I don't know what you mean." The king didn't meet Leon's questioning eyes, instead kept his gaze fixed ahead of him.

"Almost yelling at the council! You were the one who said we needed to keep our knowledge to ourselves." Leon emphasised in a harsh whisper. "If the council found out…"

"Then they'd hurt Merlin!" Arthur turned to Leon. "Don't you think I know that?" Arthur vented at the knight. He wasn't really angry, not towards Leon anyway. He knew he was asking an awful lot for him to turn away from everything he knew and keep this big of a secret. He was angry at himself for being the liability. He'd not even lasted the afternoon at keeping mum. "Everything's changed since we got back." Arthur sighed softly.

"My lord?"

"When I was in that room, everyone who spoke of Merlin disregarded him. Like he was less than us, just because he was a servant. And I realised something. Before today, that was me as well, laughing at Merlin, scoffing at him. How he put up with me for all this time, I don't know."

"With all due respect, Arthur, no one treats Merlin like you do. The way you speak to him shows that you don't see him as just a 'servant' but as an equal you can speak freely to." Leon gave the king a kind smile. "He says things to you that no one else would dare, with the exception of perhaps Gwaine, who can't keep his mouth shut." He grumbled. "Look, how would you react if a random servant called you an 'arrogant prat'?" He asked, then hurriedly added, "To quote the vernacular, sire."

"Obviously there'd be consequences." Arthur thought aloud, though he wasn't quite sure what he'd do. It would be considered insolent towards their king, but could he fire a man just because they'd freely expressed their opinion of him? He could only imagine how his father would've reacted had he been called that.

"Yet Merlin says that you on a daily occurrence." Leon smiled. "Though not that I'm condoning his behaviour in any way." It still felt a little off for anyone to speak to the king like that, even from someone as close as Merlin.

"That he does." Arthur laughed. "No one has ever spoken to me the way Merlin does, and often I speak to him in a way I can't speak to others. But I still don't understand your point Leon."

"What I'm trying to say sire, is that to you, Merlin is your friend. And you two speak as friends, the chatter between yourselves nothing more than light joking. The way the council speak to Merlin, they deride him because they see him as nothing more than a servant who is beneath them. You see him as an equal you can talk to."

"You think so?"

"I do Arthur. Besides, no one takes notice of Lord Arrington or most of the elders on the council anymore. I don't understand why they cling onto their roles when all they do is negate your ideas." Leon shook his head. "One day that'll be a council run by people of your own choosing, and will be a damn sight better than the last."

"When did you get so wise, Leon?" Arthur grinned, turning towards the final staircase up to Gaius' room.

* * *

 **Leon's getting deep! This chapter was a bit slowed down from previous, but I thought it'd be interesting to get a bit of castle life in here.**

 **I also have a question for you. Someone recently pointed out that I'd got my timetable with the show a bit mixed up, so I would like to know if you're OK with me leaving in a mistake, or if it's something I should change.**


	23. Of Friendship and Future

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Hello people. New chapter. Quick question at the end.**

* * *

"He tried to." Gaius looked up at Gwaine, the knight placing a hand on Merlin's undamaged shoulder, keeping a protective watch over him. "Do a spell, that is. A few times. All he managed to achieve was making the fire flicker and to throw a beaker off a shelf."

They had been sat there for the better part of an hour, Gaius had cleaned Merlin's torso and stitched up the rest of his wounds a while ago, and now they were just waiting. Gwaine hated it, he felt like he should be doing something to help him rather than just sat by his bedside.

"He must've been very weak." Gaius frowned, a concerned look still etched into his drawn features. "I'll tell you now, there's not a soul more powerful than Merlin. Escaping from magic suppressing manacles is damn near impossible, so it's to be expected that he was rather exhausted."

Gwaine looked as if he was about to ask something else, press Gaius for more information, when the door swung open and a very pensive-looking Arthur strode through, deep in thought and grumbling to himself.

"How was the council?" Gaius' voice seemed to snap him out of the trance Arthur had been in.

"The usual." He muttered, shaking his head. "Leon and I have decided to withhold some facts from them. We didn't mention our stop in Redferran, nor the extent of Merlin's injuries. I'm worried it could raise more questions than necessary. They know we were attacked and kidnapped, and Merlin was injured and had to be brought to you, but very little apart from that." Arthur rubbed at his tired eyes. "How is he?" He cast his eyes up to the figure on the bed, as if he'd been preparing himself for the worst, relieved though a little disheartened to see there was little change in the warlock's condition. The few differences he could see was that more colour was returning to his face and his chest and stomach were no longer covered in bandaged gaping wounds, but rather more neat stitches.

"Doing better. I've closed all of the open wounds and cleaned the smaller cuts and scrapes. He's cooled off a little as well, so there's not much to be done for him now, only wait and see." The old man let out a resigned sigh. "I wish there was something to be done, something just to keep me busy, I hate seeing…" He took a breath in an effort not to get himself so worked up. "I'm sorry, Arthur."

"You love him like a son, you've done far better than most would in your situation." Arthur reassured Gaius, taking note of his haggard appearance. "Why don't you get some rest? Me and Gwaine can keep watch, and we'll let you know if there's the slightest change."

"You promise?" Gaius said, stifling a yawn.

"Absolutely. Like I said, I'm leaving the medical stuff to you from now on." Arthur let out a small laugh.

"And Gwen will no doubt come and see how he is." Gwaine added, noticing the maid had been gone quite a while.

"If you're absolutely sure." Gaius nodded, heading towards his room at the back of his quarters.

There was nothing else to do after Gaius disappeared but set themselves up for watch as if they were guarding a camp on a patrol. Gwaine sat at Gaius' workbench, toying with all measures of glass cylinders and pots of ingredients, whilst Arthur sat by Merlin, keeping an eye on everything, from his temperature, to the way his breaths were taken.

A short while later, Gwen arrived with a fresh bowl of water and some clean cloth, desperate to be updated on his condition. Arthur offered her the seat by Merlin, glad to have the company of another person. The silence between him and Gwaine had been deafening.

The three sat together for quite some time, chatting softly so as not to wake Gaius. Gwen wanted the full unabridged version of events, and Arthur felt terrible for lying to her, but knew now was not the right time to tell her. Merlin had to regain some control of his secret and Gwen would be one of the few people who'd find out on his terms, not anyone else's.

Eventually Gaius re-joined them, having had a few hours' sleep and looking all the better for it. Though there were still large bags around his eyes, his disposition had improved and Arthur wondered how much sleep the physician had actually got whilst they'd been missing.

"No change?" Gaius queried, examining how the stitches were holding and how Merlin's fever was decreasing.

"Not really. Should there have been?" Arthur glanced from the physician to the still sleeping figure.

"No." Gaius shook his head. "I hoped he'd woken up, but no change just means he's still repairing himself. With luck, he could wake today, but more likely it'll be tomorrow." He took a seat by his ward. "You three need to go sleep. It's late, and there's not going to be much change with his condition. I'm confident he's going to be alright, his fever's dropping, the infection's clearing up, he's getting better. Go and rest."

"What about you?" Gwen placed her hand over Gaius'.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've sat up all night with a patient, and now Merlin's back I feel like I can breathe again." Gaius smiled. "I needed the sleep, but I'm alright now."

"I really don't think we should…" Arthur trailed off, his brain desperately searching for some excuse as to why he could stay with Merlin, but there was no denying, he _was_ tired. His thoughts were getting sluggish and he'd been having trouble keeping his eyes open for some time.

"Arthur, as your physician, I am telling you, go get some sleep. You're still king, no matter how Merlin is. I expect they'll want you back running the kingdom in the morning, and you'll be in no fit state to if you're sleep deprived. Now _go_." Finally, the famous eyebrow was raised towards the three of them and there was no more arguing.

Merlin thought he could hear voices, but he couldn't be sure if they were real or simply in a dream. It sounded very much like Gaius, Gwaine, Gwen and Arthur. But the fact that there was Gwen and Gaius with them meant he was in Camelot, and of that he couldn't be sure.

His memories were hazy, he thought he wasn't in the tower anymore, as he wasn't in constant freezing temperatures or loud echo-y rooms anymore. He still hurt, and could feel various types of pain all over him, but with his medical knowledge he knew that he'd be feeling his injuries for quite a while. He thought he could remember a town, a kindly man who wasn't Gaius treating his wounds and a painful journey on a horse next to Gwaine, and, _possibly,_ meeting Gaius in the courtyard of the castle.

He heard a door close, as quiet as the creaking wood could close, and tried to open an eye. It took all his effort just to open his eyes, and could feel himself drifting off back into sleep, but before he did, he saw the very real face of Gaius, watching over him. Merlin tugged a smile onto his lips before he went back into the darkness.

 _He was home. He hadn't dreamt it._

When he woke again, the first thing Merlin noticed was how comfy he felt. He was in a bed, and though not the world's comfiest, it was an actual bed. Not cold stone floors or harsh woodland. And then the dull ache all over his body, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to each one of his bones. Finally, he cracked an eye open, adjusting to the bright daylight in the room, and tried to stretch his achy muscles.

However, every inch of him rejected the movement and he found one of his arms had been pinned to his chest. Merlin tried to speak, not a long and complicated sentence, merely a simple 'what happened?' directed at his friends, but even that seemed difficult. The sound that came out of his mouth was nowhere near 'what happened', it was mostly a groan of pain.

He tried to use his one good arm to prop himself up, but the combination of a rippling pain running throughout his torso, along with the steady hand that could belong to no one else but Gaius on his shoulder, resigned him to lie flat, his neck the only source of movement.

"Merlin, are you awake?" Gwaine almost leapt from where he sat, a large grin on his face.

"Think so." He yawned, rubbing at his eyes.

"Before you do anything else, swallow this. I imagine you're in quite a bit of pain, this'll help." Gaius pressed a cup to Merlin's lips, and he let out an unwilling groan before drinking the concoction. As he suspected, the drink tasted foul.

"Thanks." Merlin grimaced, the taste lingering in his mouth. "Been asleep long?" He mumbled, his brain still not quite making sense of the world yet in his sleepy haze.

"We've been back two days. You've been mostly asleep all that time lazy-bones." Gwaine laughed, coming around to sit by Merlin's side.

"Arthur?" Merlin asked, glancing around the room as much as his stiff neck would allow. Worry set into his stomach as to why the king was not there, panicked he'd changed his mind about how he felt.

"He's been in and out. Mostly in. We had to make him go out, remind him there's still a kingdom that needs running." Gaius said, and Merlin almost heaved a sigh of relief, feeling bad for doubting Arthur, though he told himself if his mind wasn't so foggy then he'd have assumed that was where Arthur was.

"Everyone's been into see you mate; Leon, Percival, Elyan." Gwaine continued. "They've all been making up excuses to come see you. _'Gaius, I think I've strained my wrist in training'_ , ' _Gaius, I think there's flu going round'_ , oh and my personal favourite, ' _Gaius, are you certain I don't need this insect bite dressing?_ '" He mimicked, making Merlin let out a short laugh. He instantly regretted it as the muscles in his stomach tensed around what he thought must be stitches. " _Princess_ has been here quite a bit as well." Gwaine glanced behind him to make sure Arthur was not stood right behind him, arms crossed and foot tapping.

In fact, he wasn't there, but had Gwaine made that joke about ten seconds later, Arthur _would've_ been stood behind him, arms crossed and foot tapping.

"You're finally up." Came the voice from the doorway, unmistakeably Arthur's, as the king tried to supress the big grin forming on his face. "I hear you've been in bed these past couple of days." Merlin reciprocated the grin.

"Finally got a day off." He tried to laugh without doing too much more damage.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been tortured." Merlin grimaced, bluntly. "But Gaius gave me something akin to sulphur to drink," he gave the old physician a pointed look, "so that's helping." Merlin went quiet for a minute. "You we have a lot to talk about."

"We don't have to talk about that now," Arthur stood by the foot of Merlin's bed. "I mean you've just woken up, surely you can't be up to talking."

"No, I need to tell you now." Merlin finally managed to sit up enough to scan the room. "You've deserved the truth for long enough."

* * *

 **So** **OSAW is drawing to a close and I am working on the storyline for the sequel, and hope to publish that soon after the end of this fic. I also have a bunch of half-finished one-shot fics lying about. Would you guys like me to solely focus on the upcoming sequel, or would you like to see me publishing some random one-shots?**


	24. Of Confession and Forgiveness

**A/N** **: I don't own Merlin. That was the luck of the BBC.**

 **Hello everyone, apologies for the delay, I wanted this chapter to be perfect so I've edited and rewritten it about 5 times.**

 _ **Thank you everyone for reading this. What started as a six-chapter fic grew into something much bigger and it was because of your response.**_

* * *

The six of them sat together in Gaius' small quarters, everyone partly dreading, partly excited to hear the stories the servant in front of them had to tell. Arthur was silently put out that he was not doing this alone with Merlin, but, as the warlock had pointed out, it would take him hours to discuss this with everyone, and all five of them deserved the truth. He needed the truth to come out, needed for them to understand everything he'd done.

And so he told them.

He told them of his power, how he'd had it since the day he was born, and how little control he used to have over it. He told them of his battle with Nimueh to save the people closest to him and how Gaius had nearly died in the act. He told them of his time spent with Great Dragon, it's escape and how it led him to finally meet his father, only for him to lose the man once he'd found him. He told them of the time the witchfinder had accused him of cursing Camelot, how he'd been terrified of losing Gaius because his lies. He spoke of all manner of creatures he'd faced down, how he'd saved Camelot over and over again; it wasn't a brag, nor it an ask for recognition or entitlement.

Merlin simply told his friends the truth.

Every one of the knights, as well as Arthur, had wanted to interrupt him at some point or other in his story; ask him questions, press him for more details, but none had. They'd simply stayed quiet, listening to Merlin tell them of his adventures, silently bewildered that none of them, bar Gwaine, had ever figured out that he'd been the one saving their behinds all this time.

 _How good he must've been at hiding._

Though even Gwaine was astonished at exactly how much Merlin's magic had done for them over the years; he'd had an inkling a few times when something had conveniently gone away or been fixed that he was behind it, but not to the extent of literally saving them, every time something went wrong inside and outside of Camelot.

There was silence for a while afterwards; Merlin leaning back in his bed and closing his eyes for a moment, exhausted from his tale, and Arthur and the knights each processing the story.

"You've been here practicing magic, since day one? Even when Uther was king?" Elyan asked, still trying to get his head around the whole notion of Merlin having magic.

"I must've rescued Gaius after about fifteen minutes in Camelot." Merlin nodded coupled with a small laugh, but after a moment his soft smile disappeared. "Just after watching an execution." He shuddered.

"I remember him." Leon spoke softly. "The witch's son. The one who killed Lady Helena. She'd have killed Arthur and god knows who else if it hadn't been for Merlin."

In truth, Leon didn't know what to say. He couldn't find the words to congratulate Merlin on his heroic deeds, even though they had saved his king multiple times; he just couldn't ignore the fact that this news changed everything. Earlier he had been willing to trust the servant, and still deep down he knew that the boy would cause Arthur no harm. However, he hadn't realised the extent of just what had happened.

Merlin had broken the law. Over and over, in what was clearly a blatant disregard for the authority of Camelot. He didn't just _have_ magic; he'd been practising it, quite openly in Camelot. Arthur could forgive him all he liked, but Leon still had served under Uther and enforced his laws, not Arthur's, for quite some time whilst Merlin had been there. Whilst Merlin had been there, breaking the law on a daily basis.

"I just pushed him out of the way of a dagger hurtling towards his head, no big deal." Merlin gave a nonchalant shrug, but grinned a moment later. Even he thought that was a bit impressive, to have saved the prat's life when he really, _really_ didn't like him.

"Plate throwing was just the tip of the iceberg, huh?" Gwaine smiled, though a little unsure of how to proceed. "I mean, this is crazy. I-I knew you were powerful, but still, all this?" There was a hint of a mischievous glint in Gwaine's eyes, of which Merlin thought could come no good. Even though he'd known about what magic could do, what _Merlin_ could do, there was still a feeling that they'd only scratched the surface of this. That there was a whole lot more to come.

"Why did you come to Camelot?" The question wasn't accusative, more curious on Elyan's part. He'd lived in the city under Uther's rule when he was younger, and remembered the persecution, the executions on a daily basis. He couldn't imagine someone like Merlin choosing to live there.

"My mother; she figured I'd be safer here. The people in Ealdor were getting too close to finding out, and I didn't have a lot of control over my magic. She though Gaius could teach me about it, help me understand."

"Didn't it worry you?" Percival asked, to which Merlin nodded.

"Especially early on: watching executions, working for a prat; I did wonder why I stayed sometimes."

"I mean if you want a font of knowledge on magic, you go to Gaius." Percival gave a soft chuckle. "Even Uther utilised his knowledge."

"I couldn't have done any of those things without him. He's taught me so much I don't know what I would do without-"

"Gaius, I just came to see-" Gwen stopped, midsentence. She couldn't think to question why Arthur and all the knights were crammed into Gaius' quarters, when Merlin was sitting up wide-awake in the centre of them. "Oh my god, you're awake." She hurried over and almost threw her arms around him until she remembered the extent of his injuries and the sling keeping his arm still. She settled for wrapping her arm across Merlin's back and lightly squeezing his uninjured shoulder.

"Can't get rid of me that easy." He grinned. "It's good to see you."

"You too." She breathed. "How are you feeling?" Merlin was about to answer when he was cut off. "Sorry that's a stupid thing to say, you're obviously going to be in pain after… you know, what happened. Not to bring it up again, I don't want to upset you, but I mean we shouldn't pretend nothing's happened. I mean…"

"Gwen. Stop." Merlin laughed. "I'm alive. That's all that matters."

"And I'm glad. We all are. If anything would've happened…" She shook her head sadly. "Wait a minute, what are all of you doing in here?"

"We're here to… see Merlin of course, because he's just woken up." Gwaine stumbled over his words, hoping to appear nonchalant but just making him look twitchy and nervous. The rest of them just looked at him. Was it really that hard to tell one simple lie?

"Well, I'm sure he doesn't want to be overcrowded having just woken up." Gwen began to usher everyone out of the room. "He's going to need to rest." Her nursing instinct was taking over.

"But-" Gwaine pouted, clearly having more questions for him.

"It's fine Gwaine." Merlin smiled. "Gaius said I'm probably not going to keel over dead today, you can speak to me later."

"Come on." Percival stood up, clapping Gwaine's shoulder. "Gwen's right, Merlin's just woken up, and he's had a… challenging day." He glanced back at Merlin, giving him a short nod, and a smile, before turning away and heading for the door.

Gwen and the knights departed the room, leaving two figures in the central room. One resting in bed, the other stood anxiously, arms folded and leaning against a wall.

"Arthur, say something." Merlin cast his gaze over to the king.

"I can't. How do I respond to that? What you've done, what you do? I'm the king, Merlin. And I didn't notice that the person closest to me was practising magic and saving my life. What kind of king does that make me? What kind of _person_?"

"Arthur, you didn't know because I didn't want you to know. I didn't want any of you to know until I was ready." Merlin tried to reason with him softly.

"Gwaine knew." Merlin wasn't sure if it was simple annoyance, Arthur making a point, or just a hint of jealousy coming through.

"Not by choice." He scoffed. "I didn't suddenly decide to share my secret with the drunk having a bar fight. I was reckless and he noticed, and I was lucky that he didn't try to have me burnt, let alone say anything to anyone. Arthur, can you imagine how scared I was, every single day? That's not a criticism of you, I chose not to tell because _I_ was scared. Yes, I was scared about your reaction, and if word got out when your father was still in charge, but I was afraid that the more we became friends, the more I had to lose. You've no idea how many times I just wanted to blurt it out to you. We'd be on a hunting trip, or I'd bring your lunch, and I'd think to myself 'just tell him. Just say the words: I have magic.' I'd think you were ready for it, but I'd never say a thing. Believe me Arthur, it's a lot harder to be the one with the knowledge than the one without."

"I can't believe you've had to do this practically on your own, all this time." Arthur sighed. "I regret my initial reaction so much. I keep wondering, if you'd been able to tell me, in your own time, if I would've reacted better. If I'd would've been able to think about it rationally rather than just flying off the handle immediately. But I…" Arthur sighed, "I don't know how to deal with this. I, I'm not angry or execution-y or anything like that. I just don't know what we do now."

"You think I know? This is new to me as well. The last time I was in this room only Gaius and my mother knew the full extent of who I am. That's changed. It's all changed. We just have to learn how to adapt with it." He smiled sadly, then added, "How am I going to be secretly able to save your royal behind now?"

"I have a feeling you'll find a way." Arthur smirked. "Like me knowing is going to stop you doing your heroics."

"True." Merlin nodded, laughing softly. "I may have a few tricks up my sleeve here and there." His laughter died away, and he grew quiet for a moment, thinking. "Arthur, what do you think happened to Drin?" He asked slowly, like he was rejecting the question as he was asking it.

Though his body was beginning the slow process of healing, it would take far longer for his mind to heal, that he knew. Arthur looked surprised that Merlin was willing to talk about his captor so soon into his recovery, but he gave him a reassuring smile.

"He was probably injured when the tower began collapsing. Maybe enough to kill him." He put his hand on Merlin's shoulder, light enough so as not to exacerbate his injuries, but firm enough to offer some comfort.

Merlin did not seem entirely convinced with Arthur's conclusion, but he accepted it through his tiredness, giving the king a faint smile, coupled with a nod. The king left the room, turning his head to give Merlin reassurance once more before they finally returned to their lives in Camelot, then left the warlock alone, for the first time in a long time.

* * *

Far from the border of Camelot, a hand reached out through the broken rubble, once a roof of the much crumbled tower he lay in. Chips of ceiling flew outwards as chunks of rock were pushed to side, the figure attempting to stand up. He wasn't sure how long it had been since the tremendous quake and the ensuing chaos, all he knew was that he was cold, hungry, and alone; the cowards paid to support his cause having fled once they'd regained some sense of consciousness. He stood, brushing dust and rubble off his dark coat, and gritted his teeth, peering out of the gaping hole in the side of the wall. He knew, far in the distance, exactly where his prisoner would be, and he would get him back at any cost. The man stared through the darkness, as if locating his target, one name upon his cursed tongue.

 _Merlin_.

* * *

' _ **Of Swords and Warlords'**_ **will return in** _ **:**_

' _ **Of Magic and Kings'.**_


	25. Sequel Announcement!

**Hello everyone!**

 **This is just a quick announcement that the sequel to Of Swords and Warlords is up (because I forgot to write this two weeks ago when I posted chapter 1) and I'm updating it most Thursdays, sort of. It's going to be a lot more regular than this one was!**

 **I hope you join me for the sequel, I'm going to be having a lot of fun writing it!**


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